The Acquisition of Memories
by BorneToFlow
Summary: Embarking on their honeymoon, Charles and Elsie begin to process the events of their wedding day and those leading up to it. A series of internal reflections; lengthy, fun & sometimes in-depth conversations; &, interspersed with requisite amounts of playful holiday fun & honeymoon adult times. From Ch19 rating is a tasteful but strong M. Some S5/6 JF canon is blissfully ignored.
1. Chapter 1- Warp and Weft

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 1- Warp and Weft**

 **Synopsis: Embarking on the first leg of their honeymoon, Charles and Elsie begin to process the events of their wedding day and those leading up to it. A series of internal reflections.**

 **Rating: mostly K-T, but M for the later chapter/s.**

 **Author Notes: This is my first ever fan fiction. Normally I just write essays for uni! I am playing with canon a bit- re-setting the character traits of our two favourite repressed English people to suit my tastes. The big one, at least at this stage, is to forget the whole Becky storyline for Elsie. I prefer her as a woman of more independent means. Hopefully, this fiction will make sense with just a few Author Notes before the chapters, as required. However, for my full and lengthy treatise on what I felt was right and wrong with S5 and S6 representation of Chelsie, please see my profile page.**

 ****Be warned that my two favourite books to date are Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. As such, my writing may reflect their styles or try to incorporate certain phrases with varying levels of success!**

 *****CE wedding date has been pushed out to 1926 to allow a historical event from that particular year to factor into my story of Chelsie's honeymoon.**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Chapter 1- Warp and Weft**

Saturday, May 29th, 1926

Midday. Mr and Mrs Carson sink back into the plush ruby seats of their section of the first class train carriage with a sigh of wonderment, contentment, relief, and just a little tiredness. The train slowly heaves away from Ripon platform, headed towards London. The morning of their wedding was a whirlwind of nerves and joy. So many moments. Too many to fully process right now it would seem.

But Charles knows that he wants to. He wants to savour every moment and ingrain it onto his memory, when the time allows, so that he may access it again and again. So that he may replay his happiest day in his minds-eye and relive it as best he can- to be able to hold this jewel of a day once more within his fleeting daydreams. He figures that it will all come later- the organising of his thoughts into a clearer narrative that will tell the most important story of his short life. Then he will find a way to order the day's flurry of sensations that have flitted around and alighted so briefly upon his shoulders. A way to process and file away moments in the ledger of his heart. A way to build a home within himself for all of the emotions that have threatened to spill over and overwhelm him this bright May day- building a testament to the grandeur of his love. His own great house.

For now, it is enough to feel the calming motion, the rocking of the train along its set track as they pull away from the business of their wedding morning. Charles feels the shunt and slide of the carriage and breathes in deeply. The light perfume of Elsie tells him that he is home. With Elsie by his side, he will always be home and safe, no matter where she is. He sighs audibly into the carriage, relaxing next to Elsie, soothed by the slow rocking and cradled in her love.

Charles also knows that things nowadays rarely seem to follow the expected sequence. He sometimes feels that he has no control anymore- not since the Great War, that is for certain. He feels like he is always trying to hold back huge crashing waves with nothing more than a set of polished silver teaspoons. And it is not enough. Life now just seems to pick him up and roughly toss him forward on the roiling crests of change, and he is powerless to stop any of it. If it weren't for Elsie's steadying hand, he is sure he would have slipped under the waves and floundered ungracefully and alone until the end of his days- growing gruffer and more fractious and unlovable. Thank God for her ability to take him in hand and set him straight.

 _No time to dally_ the day speaks to Charles. _Memories and moments are fickle beasts, Charles Carson, and right now we demand your strict attendance._ So, rather than relaxing fully into the comfort of the first class train carriage, rather than being able to switch off his mind, Charles remains in a state of heightened awareness. He feels, almost, that he is standing to attention in his Butler's livery. Standing outside himself and looking into his own mind, and he understands that it is now his duty to serve the sacred memory of his wedding day by attending to it all right now. And so he sits quietly in the brief moment of their shared sighs as they relax into the companionable silence of friends who feel no hurry to speak of anything just yet. No anxious need to fill any silences exists when you have lived and breathed together for so long.

And so the thoughts, the images and the moments of the day, the newest and finest threads of his life so far, begin to weave an intricate picture of a brand new story into the fabric of his history.

He sees faces. So many smiling faces that came to wish them well this morning as they walked out of the church and into the bright May sunshine- finally and publicly and sacredly joined. Charles and Elsie. Charles, gazed towards Elsie beside him - smiling like he had never seen her smile before. Beside him. Beside him. Roses fell, and wheels click over the rails. Beside him. Such comfort. There is always Elsie. Elsie by his side. There has always been Elsie's smiling face to light his memories from within. Elsie. His beginning and his end. Elsie by his side.

Joined together across their years in service, as if by some invisible string that flexes and pulls at the innermost cores of their being. A thread that allows them to always sense where the other is in the great house whether near or far. That string that floats and twangs, pulling them together and apart- slackening and tightening as they walk the endless hallways and stairs. The dance of polish and lace – pocket watch timing and tinkling chatelaine. Unison. At its most perfect their dance goes unnoticed by all others in the house. It is the sign of great management- an art expressed through discreet performance. Long woven into the fabric of one another, now the threads are closely battened to reveal a full picture that is greater than the sum of its parts. Today they are finally and fully on display. Today the world can see and acknowledge and celebrate how indelibly joined two souls can be.

 **CECECECECE**


	2. Chapter 2- Appellations

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 2- Appellations.**

 **Wow! I certainly did not expect so much positive feedback for my first foray into fan fiction. This is all so new to me and it gave me quite a glow. Thank you all. :)**

 **I hope I can keep up some momentum. However, I should forewarn you that I will have to put this aside across much of September until late November 2016 to write a thesis instead! If that is going to annoy you, I would leave this until such time as it is completed.**

 **A/N 1** **\- I have updated this to remove a paragraph repeat and added a touch of dialogue that will better lead me into subsequent chapters.**

 **Chapter 2- Appellations**

"Well, well" sighs Mrs Hughes.

Except that, it isn't Mrs Hughes anymore. She is something more- Mrs Carson. Yes. The change of name a symbol of a new thing- a new way to be. It seems a pity, Elsie thinks, that Charles does not also have a symbol to denote that change. Something that states what being joined through marriage does to him. _What does he have that can be uttered in a single breath forever more?_

The wheels spin and click: _Elsie Carson, Elsie Carson._ Elsie repeats the words to herself, clicking them over and over as she sits proudly by the grand old bear of a man she has just married. Both grizzly and cuddly. _Even his name sounds like a bear from a children's poem!_ * She cannot help smiling to herself at that. _Her husband, Charles Carson._ His name rolls around her mind in rhythm with the wheels. _Charles Carson. Charles and Elsie Carson. Elsie Carson._ _It will take some getting used to- and no mistake! After all these years!_

Charles catches the slight upturn of her lips from the corner of his eye.

"A penny for your thoughts, Mrs Carson" he rumbles low and privately into her ear- even though they have this section in first class all to themselves and can speak as openly as they please.

"Hmm, that's just it" she purrs contentedly, leaning a little closer to him, "Mrs Carson." She rolls the 'r' in her relaxed and lilting brogue. "I was just running my new name through my head...You know, I think I am as partial to the name as I am to the man who has shared it with me." She smiles up at him.

Charles' eyes flick down to her left hand as he runs his thumb over her wedding band before turning his eyes to her face, his eyes glinting lovingly and proudly at her. Then he straightens up a little in his chair, much as he would puff out and straighten almost imperceptibly taller when standing in formation to greet His Lordship and Her Ladyship as they arrive home from a long absence or have brought members of the peerage to visit Downton Abbey. Only now, there is a melting softness to the edges of his puffed up straightening. Now the pride he carries in his ramrod straight back and broad chest has a certain a suppleness to it that reveals so much better his truly loving nature. He is a changed man, perhaps not in name, like Elsie, and indeed, the core of him is as it ever was, but he has definitely changed in stature. Being Elsie's husband adds something to his heart of loving kindness and makes it all so much bigger. Brighter. _Perhaps this is his symbol- his sign to the world?_ Elsie senses the shift in his mien and sees his unconscious pride. Where once this change in posture consciously aligned him to the maintenance of Downton and the Crawleys, now it aligns with even greater richness and singularity towards her.

Elsie returns his loving gaze. The allegiance has shifted today. _He has changed. He has changed._ She feels it. _So much closer now._ Closer to her.

Closer to Elsie. The wheels spin and click. _He has changed. He has changed. Changed for Elsie. Elsie by his side._

As he feels her hand squeeze lightly around his long broad fingers, he turns to the side once more and willingly sinks into his wife's eyes. Again, he feels his heart catch in his chest and sees his thoughts stop in one slick moment. Revelation presses a finger down into the absolute crux of the matter. Charles knows- in that moment- with a blazing and permanent insight, that he is, indeed, unbelievably blessed to take this particular position in life. Even now, as he nears the twilight of his time upon the earth. Click and spin. Click and spin. _Even Now. Even now._ By his side. _His one true place_ \- closer than before. So much more with Elsie by his side.

Charles feels that there will not be a day where he does not want to know her mind. He wants more and now he is free to ask it.

"Is there anything else on your mind, Mrs Carson?" he inquires.

 _How nice it always is to be asked by him_ , she thinks. _How nice that someone genuinely wants to know my mind_.

"Hmm. So many things" she replies. "Too much to say really. But first of all, how is it we ended up in this private first class carriage on the way to London, and not to Scarborough as we had planned? I was left a cryptic message to ensure I change into travelling clothes, but that I must bring my best dress with me- which, as of today happens to be my wedding gown, and that it will be required for a surprise that awaits us tonight in London."

"Ahh" replied Charles, "yes, I have also been told to pack my finest evening livery and His lordship handed me a silk topper this morning as a gift that is to be worn this evening. Mr Bates has been smirking most annoyingly for the past week each time he sees me. No doubt his Lordship employed him to provide the correct sized top hat for me. I have actually never owned one. It seems a rather silly extravagance, really, as I am sure I will not have need of it ever again."

Elsie chuckled, "the same could be said of my wedding dress, I do believe."

"It is apparently all down to the machinations of the very secretive and eternally mischievous Lady Rose," Charles continues, "of all people! Although, I suspect she has garnered the involvement of Lady Edith in London, Her Ladyship and no doubt Lady Mary to pull this one off. The only other things I was told were that we would need to catch this train and not the slightly later one, to Scarborough, that the schedule, extra train travel and accommodations in Scarborough have been adjusted to fit in with this change of plan, including an additional two days off from work to account for all of this flitting around the countryside- and that it is all paid for by his Lordship, no less!"

Charles smiles happily and fairly ripples in his seat with thinly disguised excitement. Elsie sees a glimpse of a happy-go-lucky boy in Charles as his hand that she is not holding in her lap flutters a little at his side. _This is new! And how sweet!_ Elsie thinks, smiling back at him. _I hope to see this part of Charles a lot more in the future._

Charles continues, "And the last part I was told is that there will be a letter explaining tonight's events handed to us once we are fully settled aboard. It all sounds rather hectic to me, and I must say, I am not particularly partial to surprises" he remarks in a serious tone, despite the reflex of excitement that has just rolled through his frame, "One never knows what is going to be needed really."

"Really, Mr Carson?" she says in mock surprise, "I would never have guessed that you would have such distaste for the unplanned and uncertain" she ribs him with a wicked smile in her eyes.

"Hmmph," he replies seriously, sporting a faux-disgruntled look before he snuffs out a short laugh and smiles broadly back at her.

"But, oh my!" Elsie continues, "it does seem that they have arranged for us to attend something that may be a little outside of our normal social standing" looking a little concerned. "I am not at all sure that I feel comfortable with this either. All this attention is too much for the likes of me."

"Nonsense, Mrs Carson," Charles states firmly, "you are as worthy as anyone I know of these elegant attentions. Besides which – today is your day to step out from the shadows of the hallways and be centre stage…so to speak." He pauses straightening down his waistcoat in that authoritative Butler-ish manner of his and, looking directly at the wall in front of him, he gruffly states the inarguable fact that "we are not getting any younger Mrs Carson- we can afford to live a little, you and I." He snuffs, a very formal short breath from his nose. Then he glances sideways at her with a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. His eyebrow rises in askance, trying to gauge what she will think of him recycling the phrase she used on him that had clearly marked the point at which their lives veered off in this new, and far more pleasant direction.

"Och, get away with ye," Elsie chuckles back to him, throwing back one of his more memorable lines from a time when they started really noticing each other a little differently and tried to garner smiles from the other whenever daily moments and some gentle ribbing would allow. It is their restrained version of openly flirting, now that Elsie comes to think of it.

Still, Elsie fears she will not be up to the task of presenting herself amiably amongst a different class of people, having made a career of fading unobtrusively into the background. Elsie has even found that, as joyful and short as her wedding morning has been, it was also a somewhat tiring affair. Having to play the hostess and be the centre of attention for the first time in her life was quite a foreign experience for her. Having been the recipient of Lady Grantham's generosity, who had gifted her the new dress and coat Elsie wore for the day, was also somewhat overwhelming. Elsie's train of thought careers through the many scenes of the day in the small breath of a moment before Charles receives further news from the carriage porter of their current adventure to London from. Scenes of her life at Downton also flash past the windows of her mind and beg to be examined in the light of this new day.

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N 2:** *** The first poems for children by A.A Milnes featuring Edward Bear appeared in _Punch_ in February 1924. Perhaps the adventures of Charles Carson, a somewhat gruff and slightly over-stuffed but soft-hearted nursery bear needs to be written?**


	3. Chapter 3- Hands

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 3- Hands**

 **Author Notes:**

 ***I have conveniently forgotten the Becky/Elsie/pauper background for this story.**

 ***I will now try to keep each chapters memory reflections to the POV of either Charles or Elsie. I am not adept enough at flicking between the two in one chapter, as my hero Virginia Woolf did. Besides which, I think her choppy-changey- without- warning POV style is an acquired taste and may not scan well for some readers. Taking this chapter-per-person approach will mean that it may be a while before I get back to my plot points about the new and improved honeymoon tour- Sorry- memories and reflections first!**

 **CECECECECE**

Sitting, as always, to the right hand of Charles, Elsie continues to stroke his hand as the Yorkshire landscape slides by her window, at once rugged and neatly tamed. Verdant farmland rolls by in sections, stopped by the hard labour of assembled stone walls, fencing in the lambs, providing a livelihood to people she cannot know. It is good land, with a wildness still peaking through, reminding her of Scotland. Elsie has always felt the landscape sustains her. She needs all that Downton and Yorkshire is. Although, she is sure that Charles doubts her connection to this land, that he feels she is somehow still detached from it, outside of it, not as connected to it as he is as a native Yorkshireman. But she feels it. It runs deep.

She loves to see the dark, craggy rocks and the moors as they rise and cut through the pastures with water and bracken and stones too large and tough and ancient to be moved by human hands. It speaks to her of the folly of trying to keep all of nature at bay behind manicured politeness. She needs its wildness in a way that Charles seems to shun. Charles's greatest comfort is from the order of the Abbey, the fenced fields, not from that wildness that resolutely breaks through and will not be tamed. And yet, Elsie sees all of Yorkshire within her man, even those aspects he would deny, carefully hidden beneath his finery and fences hewn from fastidious traditions. Elsie sees the craggy aspects of Charles and loves them all too. They sustain her and speak of secret places, places unexplored by others, places that are now revealing themselves to her alone. Something steady and strong and passionate that is immovable, yet somehow always free.

She moves her hand on top of his and traces her fingertips, feather soft, over the relief of veins that rise in ragged lines across the back of it. She presses down on the bumps and watches them spring back up, supple yet permanent, and she realises that, with age, these veins have become more prominent, on both their hands. Their lifeblood. The true nature of both of them was always going to break through it seemed. No amount of focused husbandry, nor carefully spliced social masks or corseted livery could cover this land within them.

His tough and steady hands have known a lifetime of hard labour, from stable boy to boot blacker and hall boy through to the highest, most distinguished position in service in the county. And despite his immaculately trimmed and scrubbed nails, Elsie sees the black stained ink on the tips of the fingers of his writing hand. She knows that the harsh scent of silver polish cannot be fully erased. The roughness of a life of lonely toil sits in the fibres of his skin and scars the landscape of his inner life.

She turns his hand over and lightly traces the jagged silver white line on the large flexor muscle below his thumb. She remembers how he got it, remembers how she removed the angry glass slivers and dressed the steadily bleeding wound. She remembers that she had caused it. She had made his wildness snap through because she had irked him all that time ago- when she thought that she was sick but would not tell him. She had made him fret and rage at her obfuscations, and his unbridled fear and passion for her (for she now knows that is what it was) had risen up. Even though his great rugged paws had expertly polished stemware with controlled delicacy for decades, she had caused him to demand more of the crystal than it could withstand. She was the cause. She had made this mark on him because she had made something undisciplined in him finally break through his carefully cultivated veneer.

Elsie remembers the night he proposed to her. The night he stunned her to her core. The night when she squeezed his arm in solidarity once more, just as she had when Lady Sybil died, but oh- so differently this time- once more with hot tears rising unbidden in his kind dark eyes, heart full to bursting, only, this time, not for their shared grief. This time, it was for the grafting together of something new- for the hope and promise of them.

She remembers how they had briefly sipped at their punch but then soon needed more of each other. Something quiet and sacred and shared, before they returned to the great hall and the more vocal celebrations of life and togetherness at Christmas. As they heard Lady Mary's pretty strains of _Silent Night_ drifting down to their locked and hidden place below the Abbey, they had clasped their hands together. His, huge and steady and gentle, enveloping her fine-boned and strong ones in smooth warmth, holding them with such tenderness to his chest. That silent night she had seen the silvery ruggedness of the moors shining on him- shining in him. She had seen it rise up on his skin as she turned his palm towards her, slowly, and as she ran a slender cool fingertip along the line of the deep gouge she had rent upon him all that time ago. He seemed to speak somewhat unconsciously to her then. Low. Something about having read somewhere that that part of the hand was called the Mount of Venus in Palmistry and how he could not fathom what Venus really had to do with hands anyway. Nonsense words. But she stilled him, made him tumble out his next words- "Well it is all a load of silly old bunkum, really..."-and she made him catch his breath in that silent moment. And she had murmured low to him, as if in prayer. Slowly, raising his palm towards her face, she breathed a benediction over his heart- that he had laid out so nervously before her, breathed a blessing over the hand he had so willingly and assuredly offered her, breathed out- finally- that she had never had a chance to kiss it all better. She had heard him draw a shuddering breath as she dipped her head and gently brushed her warm lips against the mark of his pain and she knew then that they would always stitch up and heal their wounds together from that day.

 **CECECECECE**

 **Thank you again for the reviews so far. They have been very encouraging. :)**


	4. Chapter 4- Foundlings

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 4- Foundlings**

 **Author Notes:**

 *** In my mind, Carson and Hughes have been orphaned at different stages of their childhoods. Maybe I will explore this in greater depth at a later date.**

 *** Lady Grantham has gifted a brand new dress and coat for the wedding- of a much better colour and design than the one used in the show. Beryl and Anna supply other…unmentionables for the ensemble.**

 *** Disclaimer: They are not mine, and I do not profit from them, but they do make me imagine...**

 **CECECECECE**

More moments rush past Elsie as their hands intertwine and the train clips steadily towards London. The insights slide into sharp relief. They do not blur as the view outside the train window does when she glances sidelong at it. Nor do they recede and get smaller, as the Yorkshire scenery does when she peers outside towards the back of the train. Strangely, the past seems to rush headlong towards her- asking her to make sense of it all. Moments of their past and feelings she has pushed aside grow larger and clearer in an instant. In the silent click of his nails on that fine metal circle, in the slide of her finger over the tracks of his veins.

His hand now cradles hers, just as it did in the church today- as he promised her all that he has to give in this world. Within his large warm hands, hers had pulsed and felt light and ethereal as a fluttering dove that had finally found its way back to the dovecote. He laid claim and stoppered his promises with a gilded ring. Held the pledge in place with the weight of his other hand on top of hers as she accepted him and brought him home to her and bound them both together.

Bound. Not as a singular whole, though. No. Never that. Never as her other half. _Never_ in Elsie's mind. She refuses to be his other half- part of some mythical hybrid person! She was not empty or only 'half' there before! Lonely, yes. Partially hidden, maybe, but _never_ incomplete. Nor was Charles. _How can there ever be half a person?_ She thinks. _And why must the person you marry be your 'other half'?_ She is as much her own whole person now as she was before, and she is not here to fill some gaping hole in another person. They stand side by side. They are both whole people who have just… grown together- offering a support structure for the other to climb higher, to seek change- to reach the better parts of themselves that were, really, always there all along. They shine the best of themselves back upon the other. They quietly, and sometimes glaringly, show each other where the flaws are in need of some buffing. Like endless reflections in a hall of mirrors- they just make each other something… more. Greater. _We are brighter now_ , Elsie thinks. _We can shine. We are not a single whole cobbled together from the broken shards two lives. No. Not that. We are something more. We are so much more than the sum of us,_ Elsie firmly believes.

Elsie feels a strange irritation at the notion that she will now be seen as merely a part of Charles in the eyes of the world- that she will somehow be subsumed by him. And then she feels guilty that she should be feeling so annoyed about all of this today- of all days. Still- there it was. It seemed to be the want of society to place women in this way and she was annoyed that all her personal ambitions and individuality and years of dedicated service and hard work to build an identity and a life for herself may be discounted and all its worth reduced, along with her own. Reduced to her just being Charles Carson's 'other half'- his _little_ wife. That is what she fears. That is what she will not have!

As the memories of the morning hurtle towards her, Elsie cannot avoid the feelings of discomfort she still felt about being the centre of attention, and perhaps now viewed as the lesser part of this partnership she has with Charles. Elsie knows that this tension is part of the reason she feels so utterly fagged out, even though the morning wedding and breakfast reception at the school house were so brief. Thank God she did not have to go through all this in the Great Hall! No, she was right- that would not have been for her. This was their best option. Elsie's strength and stamina have been bred deep underground, below stairs and unnoticed - that is where she has always resided and fortified herself- gliding into the background, silently overseeing- straightening and correcting. Growing a world of her own. That is her identity- that is who she has always been in the village- the keeper of the keys, the bastion of secret inner spaces. But today she had felt completely exposed- having to perform a new musical number to a crowd intently staring her way. She had no sheet music to read and no time to practice for this wedding. It seemed that it was all upon her and then over before she could even breathe or think. Frankly, it had left her quite unsettled and a little fractious about it all.

CECECECECE

It did not help that there had been an extravagance of gifts foisted upon her for that day- more than she had ever received before in her whole life, truth be told. It all fell outside of the simple but careful way she normally planned things when working beside Charles day by day. Who would have thought that three short hours could throw her so completely through a loop?

Firstly, Beryl and Anna had shocked her with their gift of new undergarments this morning. She blushed like a beet when they came to dress her for the early morning wedding. But she had to refuse them. She had to!- She could not possibly wear them! It felt scandalous, even though she knew that all the women of the house had foregone their rigid corsets- including Mrs Crawley and the Dowager Countess- years ago. Even Beryl had made the transition with typically vocal relief. But Elsie wasn't ready. Not yet. Her corset felt like all that she had to hold her up today. It fortified her. It was familiar and strangely comforting to have the busk firmly tightened against her chest on this day when everything else around her was fluid and shifting. Besides which, she certainly could not make her first time she might wear these new, most intimate of items, in a church- before God - and all and sundry from the village, besides! And especially not now, coming as it did, so closely on the heels of all her insecurities about being intimate with Charles at all. Beryl should have known better! Elsie needed to stay as she had always been- for both of their sakes. Lord! If she did not faint at the thought of it, Charles surely would have keeled over at the altar at the sight of her being so exposed! Still, her lips twitched wickedly as this thought struck her. Elsie had finally managed to stave off Beryl and Anna's insistent requests, but this was not before she had to put up with many smirks and giggles and wisecracks thrown her way from her 'ladies-in-waiting'. She convinced them that she would try them on during her time away instead. Only then she would make her final decision about whether to move forward again with the times, and not before then.

And then there was Lady Grantham's gift of the wedding dress and coat- truly extravagant garments. Beautiful beyond anything she had ever dreamt of wearing, let alone owning. The dress was of a modern cut, but elegant and not as completely up to the minute as the young Ladies of the house were wearing- more in line with Lady Grantham's and Mrs Crawley's own styles- understated and elegant, and thankfully of a cut that could still suit her wearing the corset beneath it. She loved the mauve that the light just seems to bounce off, and it seemed to float like fresh petals over her skin- so fine was the fabric. And then the coat- a deep, rich and velvet crush of imperial purple that made her feel sufficiently covered to be her usual strong self in the face of others on this oddest of days, and all despite the obvious transformation that clothing of this nature represented to her as a person.

And now this honeymoon! And lord only knew how that was all going to play out! It was all such an extravagant gesture from the family and she had never expected it. Elsie realised that, like Charles, she was actually feeling quite giddy about it all. Like a child on Christmas Eve, wanting to wriggle about in her seat. Elsie was itching to receive the letter from the cabin porter to find out the rest of the news, but the wheels clicked on and her thoughts were drawn to deeper messages.

All of these fine gifts went far beyond what an orphan girl like herself could ever have hoped for- no matter how hard she had worked over the years since her Mam and Da got sick and she had to go out so young to earn money for the farm. Elsie could only think in wonderment, once more, at the nature of the Crawley family. They had surprised her time and again over the years with their understanding and respect for the people who serve them downstairs. The family always seemed to wish the best for all the people that the Estate needed to support, and they were unusually benevolent and generous towards the servants closest to them. They had proved it with their support for Bates and Anna, William Mason and his father, Mrs Patmore and Charles, and even herself, when they have faced trouble or illness and incapacity. The Crawley's had even seen fit to support Thomas. Poor Thomas, who had courted dismissal on more than one occasion, all because the lost and hurt little boy inside would lash out, with particularly malicious and devious behaviour, at the world that shunned him. Poor Thomas, the most troubled of her and Charles' _sons_ -for that is how Elsie sees their charges, their children- and she believes Charles does now too, ever since their brave and sweet William was taken from them. Charles and Elsie, always side by side with their own brood of foundlings to look out for. All of their precious little foundlings- the only other family that they really both have.

 _Indeed, the Crawley's are a rare family to have as masters_ , Elsie thinks, for she had not sensed the same level of respect from other families she had served before arriving at Downton. Perhaps that is another reason why she stayed at Downton, apart from the deep and abiding need (or is it just desire?) that she has always felt to stay near Charles- within reach of his friendship and bulk and protection. She knew now that the Grantham's generosity to their fellow man was a big part of Charles's respect and faithful service to them across all these years. Who could begrudge him staying in harness all these long years, when that generosity was so forthcoming? All orphans require some generosity from another family to survive, as Elsie well knew. And so they had stayed.

It is strange, how her discomfort at the Crawley's generosity for their wedding day has made her view some of her old gripes in a much kinder light. However, there are still underlying issues about the Crawley's influence on their lives that she feels she needs to address with Charles at some point, not today, but certainly at some point in the future.

Things like her being more than a little rankled by the fact that Charles did not stand up for her wishes more promptly and succinctly in the face of Lady Mary insisting upon the reception being held in the Great Hall at the Abbey. Before she could get what she had wanted for _her_ one and only wedding day, it took for her to be called in to give a detailed account of her wishes in front of all and sundry, which as a very private person, she felt extremely uncomfortable with. All of which Charles should have been well aware of- he has known her long enough! It was as if he saw their wedding as just another event he had to coordinate for the Grantham's benefit- instead of the most important day of their _own_ lives. She was annoyed that she was left to stand her ground alone. So, despite the benevolence of the request from Lady Grantham, who only desired to let the bride be at the centre of the day's proceedings, which is as it should be, Charles had just stood there and not openly supported her in the face of the family's interrogation. Elsie had not had to justify her actions to them in such a public manner since she was a housemaid! Charles did not seem to see this and did nothing to alleviate her discomfiture, and really, she felt quite petulant about it all now!

And besides, why hadn't she and Charles been in agreement about it all from the start anyway? She had wanted them to find that mutually comforting position with their wedding arrangements that they always managed to get to before presenting their work decisions to the family. They have always been a united front, in the end, when it came down to matters of running the household for them. Always. Why couldn't they do it in the lead up to their own big day? Charles knew her wishes- she had spoken openly of them with Charles, and on more than one occasion. Deep down she knew she would have to confront him at some point about all of this. which, now that she is honest about it, at its heart, it all came down to Charles putting a certain young lady's interests before _his_ own- before _her_ own- before _theirs._ Again! There was just no hiding from that fact- this is what had hurt Elsie the most.

Try as she might, she could not avoid feeling jealous of Charles's easy and complete allegiance to Lady Mary, whom she has often thought still needs a much firmer hand to wrest the haughtiness and sometimes outright mean cattiness from her demeanour, even though she is now a woman in well into her thirties. Yes, she had mellowed somewhat through Mister Crawley's influence, and even, sadly, through his untimely death. Lady Mary is not completely bitter, Elsie concedes, and lord knows the losses of both a beloved sister and husband in such short order could have inspired that in many a good person. Still, there is an underlying insecurity in that young woman that can manifest in an open disdain for those she deems as below her station in life.

She is actually a bit like Blanche Ingram from _Jane Eyre,_ Elsie realises in a flash- the aristocratic, cool-as-glass beauty from one of her favourite books. Truth be told, Elsie had never fully fathomed why this book deserved repeated reading above all the others she could freely access from Lord Grantham's library. Perhaps it was the descriptions of her beloved Yorkshire landscape and the way Jane seems to grow forcefully from that land herself. Elsie has owned a copy of this book for herself for many years. The pages are worn soft, the gilt edges are tarnished, and the corners rounded from repeated thumbings. It is strange that only now the similarity between Blanche Ingram and Lady Mary has come into such clear focus for Elsie. Here- on this curious train ride through her thoughts on her wedding day.

Like Blanche, Mary is the first born and much-feted beauty of a good family. A noble woman of means with prodigious skills in all the arts befits a daughter of the peerage- singing, playing and an excellent horsewoman too. But Elsie feels that similarity between the two women shows up especially in the unaccountable cruelty the Lady Mary has unleashed upon others at times, especially upon Lady Edith. Elsie had seen or heard the aftermath of this malice on more than a few occasions. And always, it seemed, Lady Mary chose her moments carefully. Always, it seemed to be when Lady Edith was on the cusp of securing her own, hard-fought happiness. It is behaviour that speaks of a meanness of spirit in Lady Mary that Elsie finds repulsive– a selfishness that seems to override Mary's better intentions and the regard for other people's feelings that is part of being a good Christian and polite member of society. Sadly, Elsie is not sure can that it is a trait that can ever really be changed. Then again, Thomas has been proving her wrong on that front more and more lately, he seemed to be finding his own goodness inside him and acting on his better instincts, looking out for his fellow workers a lot more, and lavishing kind uncle-like attention on young Master George. So maybe there is still hope for the Blessed Lady Mary!

Well then, if Lady Mary is Blanche Ingram, Elsie muses, then, surely Lady Edith is reminiscent of Jane Eyre herself. Elsie has always felt an affinity for the second Crawley daughter- the plain-Jane sister who has been overlooked by the world as everyone focuses on the Lady Mary holding forth and shining from atop her white marble pedestal. Dear Edith seemed to have similar dreams to Elsie's – to be useful and active and independent and to somehow make her own way in the world. The war had truly brought Lady Edith into her own. She really does remind Elsie of Jane Eyre,... and of herself really. All three of women are at their strongest in a crisis, but most often, their mettle truly shines as they continue to slog through the mire of everyday life- diligently, if not spectacularly, forging ahead with a kindness towards others. Yes, Lady Edith has much to be proud of in Elsie's mind. Edith is a strong woman, who has rarely stooped so low as to tear apart Lady Mary's world in retaliation for the wrongs inflicted upon her from that quarter. And _that_ is the test of a truly good person, thinks Elsie- and it _can_ still be learnt, really, if Thomas is any indication (he is much improved).

But then, Jane Eyre started off passionate and wanting to retaliate against injustice with an eye for an eye- until she met Helen Burns, who showed Jane another way to be Christian. Elsie had seen Lady Edith mature in similar ways- no longer getting so openly riled by Mary as she got older, learning to maintain her decorum. To Elsie, Helen Burns's death always seemed like the touchstone in Jane Eyre's life. And when Helen died, it changed Jane. She became a better person. Still not as passive as Helen Burns was in her brand of Christianity- Jane's passionate nature would never allow that- but certainly more understanding and more forgiving. Maybe Lady Sybil's death, the deaths of all those young men across all those horrid years of the war, and now, Mr Gregson - maybe they were the touchstones for Lady Edith- the moments of her life that reforged her in some way- shaped her underlying strength and goodness and lent her a patina of true beauty that can only come from hard-won experience. Yes, Elsie feels she can often understand Lady Edith. _But, in the end, really, who knows what can be nurtured within a child,_ Elsie thinks, _and what may just be inherent in their nature. It all defies easy explanation._ Elsie thinks that the two sisters are actually like two different sides to the same shiny coin, spinning on edge through life together. And, surely, thinks Elsie, _Life itself is a strange paradox: always growing and striving towards a certain death_.

 _Well, there seems to be no accounting for good breeding_ , Elsie sighs to herself.

But still, the cut smarts within her. Still, Charles just accepts _anything_ from Lady Mary. He appears blinkered to her flaws and never seems to reprimand her in any way, which perhaps is because of his relative station in service to her, and it is true that Elsie cannot know all of the details of Charles interactions with Lady Mary. So, who can say? Maybe he has tried, in his own way, over time. Elsie well knows that there are subtle ways and means to make a point with your superiors without risking censure, or your job, and Charles is adept at it, he even expresses his opinions quite freely, albeit extremely politely, with Lord Grantham at times. _So, has he ever done so with Lady Mary?_ Elsie wonders. Charles appears able to forgive Mary for any transgression, and quite rapidly it seems. Elsie never could fully understand Charles's devotion to her. Normally she tries to justify it as his fatherly instincts, and, really, who can deny him these? Still, as hurt as she is that Charles did not stand by her wedding wishes more strongly, Elsie is, at heart, a forgiving creature, much like Lady Edith, like Jane Eyre, and she finds that she cannot stay angry with her Charles for very long.

Deep down, Elsie knows that she cannot very well ask him to stop loving one of his children, no more than she could stop loving her own, their own, like poor dear William and Anna and Daisy, and even Thomas, who is enigmatic and complex and completely confounds her at times. All of their little orphans of life in one way or another. And in the end, Elsie realises, that despite his reticence to embrace change and deviate from the propriety that tradition dictates, all people do gain Charles's acceptance,... eventually- Ethel, Lady Edith, dear Lady Sybil and even Tom Branson. It is his great strength. Elsie realises that beneath the rigid starched waistcoat, is actually a man of quite some flexibility and generosity towards his fellow man and that this is truly admirable. With Thomas, of course, it will take much longer for Charles to accept him fully- that one may never happen- but at least he is civil towards him. He is a true gentleman. A truly gentle, gentle man. Always. Charles is a man of honour and integrity, she had said as much to him herself- and she had meant every word. Her Charles treats all people with kindness and dignity that befits their inherent humanity.

In the click and the rush towards her final years, Elsie sees that she can stand to be more forgiving of Lady Mary and try to accept her as Charles accepts others. There are certainly some admirable qualities to the younger woman that could sway Elsie to at least like her at times. To begin with, Mary regards Charles's counsel very highly, so that counts for a lot in Elsie's book. And, although at times it seems that Lady Mary tries to make up for her rudeness and mean acts through an extravagant and forceful form of generosity- the wedding reception offer and even the provision of this first class carriage being prime examples, Elsie sees in these gestures that there is really a small and fumbling child trying to give the biggest present she can find to someone she loves, when all that she has to her name is the six-pence she borrowed from that same person. Elsie smiles and finds that she cannot really begrudge Charles's love for the girl. Lady Mary is lost and hurting too really- like Thomas- unsure of their places in this world and carefully hiding the deep fear that they carry inside them- the fear that they will never be able to measure up to society's expectations and that it is all because they believe that something is inherently wrong with who they are. Elsie has been very lucky, she feels- lucky in that, through forging her own path in life, she has been able to avoid these deep feelings of inadequacy. Well, at least for the most part.

In the rhythmic click and flow of the train, Elsie hears the lines from one of her favourite songs in _Jane Eyre_ roll crisply through her mind- a song she has sung as soothing lullaby over the heads of her own lost children at Downton- her ever-changing family of charges. And although by rights, they have all be too old to be sung to, she has done it just the same, not often, and not openly. Just when they have been sleeping restlessly in illness and she has checked on them in the night. She has sung it to soothe them- to soothe herself really- and she has held the words meaning within her for many years, and she can access this meaning easily in this single breath of a moment- in the click and the roll and the sigh- where life's reflection is clear and instant.

 _oOOo_

 _*My feet are sore, and my limbs are weary;_

 _Long is the way, and the mountains are wild;_

 _Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary_

 _Over the path of the poor orphan child._

 _oOOo_

 _Why did they send me so far and so lonely,_

 _Up where the moors spread and gray rocks are piled?_

 _Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only_

 _Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan child._

 _oOOo_

 _Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing,_

 _Clouds there are none, and clear stars beam mild;_

 _God, in His mercy, protection is showing,_

 _Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child._

 _oOOo_

 _Ev'n should I fall ov'r the broken bridge passing,_

 _Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled,_

 _Still will my Father, with promise and blessing,_

 _Take to His bosom the poor orphan child._

 _oOOo_

 _There is a thought that for strength should avail me;_

 _Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled;_

 _Heaven is home, and a rest will not fail me;_

 _God is a friend to the poor orphan child.'_

 _oOOo_

In the moments that Elsie's lullaby runs through her mind, she can see that, in a way, despite being surrounded by family- Mary has somehow grown up alone and orphaned too. Raised by nannies in her early years, and then governesses. And although Lady Grantham and His Lordship have great love for their children, they raised their children in that arm's length manner that was expected of the aristocracy in the late Victorian and early Edwardian periods. But all this love sometimes appears too late for young children, Elsie thinks. Young children only understand that Mama and Papa don't spend much time with them and so there must be something wrong with _them_. Elsie knows that a child always equates the sheer quantity of time spent in a person's presence with the amount that they are loved. And as it was, Poor Mary was coolly groomed as a showpiece to be sold to the highest bidder: a commodity for the estate. No wonder she feels at once feel entitled to everything on a polished platter, and _right_ now, yet at the same time woefully inadequate. So much so that she lashes out at the world like her Thomas does.

But Charles has been a constant for the young girl, Elsie sees that now. Charles, although an orphan himself, has always been a father figure to their young charges. The gruff disciplinarian hiding the kind angel- the protector of the poor orphan child, and Mary was the first of his little foundlings. His was the presence in the house that she could count on- someone she could always go running to. Charles was always there, the silent sentinel- all the time. And the time spent is what matters to a child. It is what they will remember. Charles spent his time attending to her. And so it was from Charles; Elsie only now finally knew this to be true, that Mary actually learnt what bits of grace and good bearing she possessed, and that remained evident on her best days. She learnt from Charles about selfless giving and fatherly care and guidance, in the form of six-pence and a walk hand in hand to the village, thirty years ago.

And so, Elsie realises in the solid clicking of the wheels, that she can accept that Charles's first foundling will always hold a special place in his heart. She knows she cannot ask him to stop loving his little one. She knows now that Charles must be Lady Mary's own Helen Burns: Mary's touchstone along the long and cold and winding road back to herself.

The wheels click. _Carson. Carson. Mr Carson. Charles Carson, Charles Carson. Charles._ Her wonderful husband, who is filled to the brim with kindness and love for others, even though he hides it under a blanket gruffness. Although, really, not very well! She smiles to herself- that cuddly bear gruffness that doesn't really hide his great big faithful heart _at all_. Like a small child who thinks that they are hidden under a blanket in the middle of a room for a game of hide-and-go-seek. Hidden guilelessly with an 'I can't see you, so you can't see me' logic! Well, Elsie decides, _at least his soft heart is very much sort after by others._ That is a good sign she figures. And more importantly, his heart is still most easily spied by her- the daft old Booby!

She smiles to herself. His heart is big enough for all of them, that much is sure. Only now, it is time for Charles to put his own needs first and to put Elsie before all others in his life, just as she puts Charles first in her life. They will need to talk- but not right now. Not right now. For now, Elsie thinks, it is enough for her just to be able to love him- all of him. The craggy and the grumpy. The great and the good. Charles- her man. Charles by her side. the day sighs. He is by her side now, and it is enough. It is enough.

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N:** ***Betsy's song to the young and upset Jane Eyre at Gateshead. From _Jane Eyre_ by Charlotte Bronte, 1847.**


	5. Chapter 5- Coming to His Senses: Hearing

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 5- Coming to His Senses: Hearing**

 ***A/N: GAH! This took a lot of fiddling about to get it to flow a bit. I am still not sure it belongs at this part of the larger story. I think, at least, that the other senses will be better covered later into their London evening adventure. More plot movers are in order for next chapter I think - need to get this train moving a bit faster!**

 **Disclaimer : I do not own or profit from them- JF's work just makes me imagine different stuff sometimes.**

 **CECECECECE**

 _No time to dally,_ the day speaks to Charles. _Memories and moments are fickle beasts, Charles Carson, and right now we demand your strict attendance…_

…" _Och, get away with yee" Elsie chuckled, throwing him back one of his more memorable lines from a time when they started really noticing each other a little differently and tried to garner smiles from the other whenever daily moments and some gentle ribbing would allow..._

 _ **CECECECECE**_

Charles flicks his eyes to Elsie's mouth, and in the click of the wheels, in the breath of the moment, he wonders at this new development with her brogue, which is normally more clipped and refined for the purposes of work at the Abbey. Her lilting, skipping tones seemed to have always been with him, beating out a weird tattoo in his heart that allows him to feel some sense of harmony with a world that he frequently finds frightening as it changes so rapidly around him. Still, he loves to hear her when it thickens. It warms him even as it speaks to him _yet another_ thing unknown. Something mysterious and free.

Over the years he has become quite attuned to it- noticing when it slips into that sensuous burr that enthrals him so. Such as it does when she is particularly tired at the end of a day and they sit in quiet, shared company in his pantry with some wine, once all the house was tucked away and still for the night. Other times, she slips into the heavier Argyll accent when she has her dander well and truly up about one thing or another; generally something he has not been able to do, as it is- such as move fast enough with the changing times, or accept less than utter perfection from anyone, including himself, no matter the circumstances. The list goes on. The reasons now seem so unimportant. _All of the petty things that we can and should let go of,_ he thinks to himself. Yet he still gets slightly stunned each time he manages to vex her in some way. Sometimes it is because he waltzes so unwittingly into her ire. But, always, it is because her accent seeps into him and sends the blood draining rapidly from just under his ears to the sides of his chest and makes his lower back tingle with latent energy.

God, how he loves to hear it when she sparks! He hears the flint strike in the click of adamant heels on slate as she throws off the reserve of quiet duty and marches into the fray. He loves those times when she strikes forth with her opinions, brooking no argument from any quarter. He has always loved how her mind works, but her thoughts truly capture him when her razor sharp and made-up mind breaks through that Downton restraint- the restraint that seems to cling to both their frames and has defined most of their lives. He loves it when that fire breaks through and expresses itself in that unique and heightened manner of hers, all lusty peaks and sweeping, rounded vowels- all heat, and surety and steely resolve. It is _then_ that he can truly see her take flight.

It seems his soul demands Elsie Hughes in full flight- an awesome thunder. But it is actually quite a rare thing to see across their day to day routines where the shadow of her gliding calm wraps around their days and smooths all of their paths. But oh! when the boot falls and the flint strikes! She is a barely contained roar- a penny sized lightning rocket who ignites the sky and is formidable enough to engender the fear of the Gods into their below-stairs charges, should they ever be on the receiving end of her wrath! For Charles, however, it kindles something deep within him when he encounters it. It makes his chest expand with a start – like he has something growing large inside him that he had lost sight of long ago. Something that has been hidden and long denied, but he senses that it is good and big. Solid. And that it is somehow less lonely and cold with Elsie striking her steel against it. Elsie- when she takes flight.

The truth of it is, despite the solitary existence demanded by his role as a butler, he has never really wanted live a life so cold and alone behind the walls of restraint. Who does? _We all want warmth,_ he thinks. _We all want to belong_. This he knows. God _knows_ he wanted that- orphan that he is. He just didn't know how to reach out for it and hold onto it. He had been so lonely at times. So cold and alone and all that kept him going were his thoughts of Elsie and that fire he sometimes saw in her. That fire that had seemed so dangerous to him for so many years- when to get too close and break free and let that hard lump inside of him melt a little and love her, as he yearned to do, would have been to risk his only known home and hearth and make him an orphan out in the world once more- cold and alone and lost. And so he locked down all his wants and threw himself fully behind the mask of his profession. And he had assumed, for far too long, that she had done that too.

But Elsie had persisted. She had struck out against it all, against the walls, and she had broken through. She has known him all along it seems, and she has kept knocking at that solid wall of reserve surrounding him. _Thank God for Elsie_ , he thinks, _she has kept me alive, she has tended that dark lump of ancient coal inside me and made it burn, just as it was designed to- across all those long years when I didn't know how to reach for her, or for myself again. After the hurt of Alice. After that breach of trust. She has always been there. Elsie._ Elsie by his side, nurturing. Steadily stoking a fire in his chest, until he could not hold all of that new heat inside himself anymore, and so it reached out for her. Stretched out for more- seeking the oxygen of her so as to burn hotter and longer and more fiercely for her. _I want to give all of this to her,_ his mind whispers.

In truth, he feels at once helpless and in awe of her power - in awe of her fire, and yet, strangely comforted by it too- soothed and warmed. And so he listens for the thickening of the burr which leaves him with new sap steeling through his veins. Energised. If he is truly honest, he is somewhat titillated by it all. She is exciting and passionate when she is all in a rage. Her fiery and free Scottish nature appears to him clearly at these times and it lends a certain frisson to their exchanges that makes his heart skip with a strange excitement. To Charles, it is a chance to see that part of her which is also hidden deep. It is a gift and Charles revels in seeing this flame roar forth in Elsie and he finds that now he is not afraid to feel it to its fullest. Now, he gladly takes her strident pounding at the walls he erected so long ago. The loud striking on the solid forge of his heart fills up the hollow of that inside space. That place that he has harboured for all these years in his broad chest is now filled with a delightful ringing sound.

He has to admit that, at times, he has willingly walked unto that breach just to see her spirit in full flight. For he has learnt over time, after her initial spark and flare-up has subsided a little, after his own blustering growl has lost all of its air, that they can talk again and work through their little disagreements, to become aligned once more. And it is always in these times that she will shift closer to him and he will edge, bit by bit, closer to her. And then together, they seem to be able to shuffle the hard pieces of coal that had built up inside him, around his heart over all those years of liveried restraint, after Alice and all of that sad betrayal, and he feels himself kindling from Elsie's spark. Then the embers that had laid low and buried over all those lonely years fan into flickering life and the warmth inside him grow until he feels lighter and less afraid and less lonely and cold. And so then he finds himself wanting to get even closer to the lovely passionate, but ultimately safe and controlled force that is Elsie.

So, Charles realises with a start- that is what is at the heart of this comfort he feels with Elsie by his side- even when she is all fire and rage! That is the bare truth of it- he wants the warmth of her, and so he will risk the burn.

And so Charles wonders, does inciting her Scottish ire and facing it head on make him a braver man than others? Or, is he simply a silly old fool in love? Charles cannot say. _No matter anyway_. For, he is now exactly the man he has always wanted to be, and he is exactly where he wants to be right now- her husband and by her side from this day forward. Charles cannot help but chuckle softly and contentedly at it all. Charles- with Elsie roaring bright as firelight- always by his side.

CECECECECE

Ahh, but her accent today, Charles thinks- it is somehow different, and wholly new. That burr. The hooks of it strike and burrow deeper, but softer. He likes it- more than he can fathom, for it is like another secret part of her is revealing itself to him alone. He finds he wants to be closer to those warm tones- a new melody in a tinkling music box she had edged into his heart and mind when he was not looking- all those years ago. The music box she has wound up with that key to him that only she holds- wound up around him, surrounding him in a strange and ancient Gaelic magic drawn from her faerie blessed homeland and fed on the soft downs of Yorkshire.

And today, she winds her magic inside him again speaking with a freedom neither of them has been allowed to live until just now. This new facet to her voice speaks to him of a shared and gentle needling humour, deep kindness, faith and easy and relaxed familiarity. It speaks of her _comfortableness_ with him. This is a sensation he will look forward to more and more, he knows it. The feelings in him spark and kindle to life again as this new aspect of the woman by his side calls out to him. And what strange ecstasy it is to know that he has the rest of his life to find more of the music of her soul and that he alone will hear it sung into his heart. _Charles,_ _old boy,_ _what a rare privilege this is, indeed._

 ** _CECECECECE_**


	6. Chapter 6- Coming to His Senses: Sight

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 6- Coming to His Senses: Sight**

 **Author Notes:**

 **Although I cannot lay claim to actually _being_ a lady, I will, nevertheless, shamelessly misquote the Dowager Countess by saying that, "I can (and will) be as contrary as I like."; P. To that end, one more sensory chapter for Charles on the train (at this stage) before we get to letters from the Grantham's and plot points- Sorry- I just couldn't envision how I could slot this one in after the train terminates in London. Charles/sensory chapters for touch, smell and taste chapters I think I will be able to do once they get there.**

 **Thanks to people who have reviewed my little fic so far; including, CSotA, OleHistorian and manygreentrees. As manygreentrees pointed out after the mega-Elsie chapter- they are probably on the outskirts of London by now! Had to LOL! Just go with me on it, though- I shall maintain that thoughts are fickle and fleeting beasts! I actually think we do piece together sensations in a piecemeal kind of way most of the time, and at others we just have things culminate in a clearer flash, so maybe all these internal musings have happened in less than an hour of train travel. Please Humour me and pretend we are still somewhere within Yorkshire!**

 **I also think the Elsie Chapter was to make up for the larger amount of Charles musings this little fic may end up having. I am finding his perspective the more interesting/soppy/romantic and enjoyable to write at this stage. Really, it is all just a format for me to analyse character traits and some possible motivations- and maybe throw out a few slightly poetic turns of phrase that spring to mind.**

 **Music I have been listening seeps into my musings, no doubt. If you are interested- it has been Dame Joan Sutherland and Marilyn Horne singing 'The Flower Duet' (look on YouTube), and on spotify- K D Lang (the 2008 Watershed album in particular). If there were ever a voice to lightly sing me to smooth and peaceful sleep each night- it would be hers- K.D. does love and longing so, so well.**

 **CECECECECE**

The carriage shadow slides across lush hedgerows and pastures. Green heads of barley and wheat bend and roll in soft waves with the clear summer breeze. New buds of scalloped promise catch golden light. Something hidden long ago surfaces, catches the sun, shimmers, and rides fast over the floating rills. Charles' mind sparks. The forge flares in the striking of steel. In the click and slide of wheels.

 _Attend. Attend_.

Light catches the faceted moments of his new life _._

 _Attend. Attend to the day, Charles. Attend._

 _Attend to the memories._

 _Memories reflect the soul of life- define our purpose. Let them rise... Let them rise._

 _See them rising, Charles, rising from the engine room of mind and time –they remind us, Charles, remind us of why we strive and struggle through the mess of living, even as time itself works its icy tendrils into our breaking hearts and finally takes us on… on_.

In the click and the slide and the turn.

 _Turn these moments to the light before your eyes_.

Charles' mind slips into the rhythms of the land flashing by the train- racing past signs of abundance. He keeps his mind apace- slides the moments swiftly on…on- shunting memories into place.

Memories of their morning marriage. The moments flash before his eyes in the mere seconds of a sigh. The bumps and impressions of him, and of her- of his life with her.

In an instant he sees the events of the morning flash past, and like an epiphany, he sees how Elsie is the architect -the builder of something in his heart- a builder in so many hearts really – she has crafted something that is hard to define in so many words– but it is something that gives a curious jolt to life, embroiders him with the silvery filaments of a strange ecstasy. For Charles, she builds the shapes and light of a life shared – connected, no longer lonely and alone. It is her work of love –of toil and tears and years of longing. Patience.

So many moments in this day have shown him who she really is- what she means in different ways to all who shared their day. The revelation of finally seeing Elsie surrounded by so many of her kinsfolk. Her sister Becky and David Barton and their bevvy of children and their children's children. It overwhelms him still—a new and instant family for him— and at his age! Such love it was that they all surrounded their Aunty Elsi-peth with! Much as he could see from her special loved ones they share from Downton— like dear Anna, Elsie's special girl, with her eyes shining with tears of joy (for a most welcome change) –tears of joy for the happiness of the only caring mum the girl has ever had. And Mr Bates, who had proudly provided Elsie with a supporting arm to see her from the car and ushered her to the start of her walk down the aisle- just as she had given him such support and acceptance when he first arrived at Downton, for Charles know now of the painful and useless leg brace rusting at the bottom of Elsie's lake, and thereafter, through all Mr Bates and Anna's trials.

Mrs Patmore, who tightly clasped one tear-stained handkerchief to her breast as the other clasped at her best friend's hand as Elsie walked back down the aisle on Charles' arm. Theirs was a friendship built from rocky beginnings but strengthened through years of shared trials at the coal face of Downtown and beyond. Then sweet young, and at times _foolish_ , Daisy! Who could not help herself from throwing her arms around Elsie outside the church as the rose petals flew around their heads. Even Mr Mason attended to her. And, as a true gentleman would, he had kissed Elsie's hand as if in thanks to a great lady who had bestowed upon him a priceless gift- but priceless it was indeed, even after all of these years, that Elsie had mothered his own sweet William when he had come to Downton as a mere slip of a lad having so soon lost his own dear mother.

But most surprisingly, for Charles, was Thomas Barrow, who attended to the guests as they entered the school hall for the wedding breakfast. Yes, Barrow was the first to use Mrs Carson new title so assuredly and respectfully as he offered Elsie his best wishes for her continued happiness- every bit the respectful and precise under-butler for the occasion- but even Charles could sense the truth and depth behind his stoic presentation. Perhaps he has the makings of a Butler in him yet...

Yes, Elsie surely has always garnered the respect of all the downstairs staff, and the very best of them may also lay claim her unwavering support.

And then Charles sees again, Lady Mary- offering Elsie such an open and giving and respectful smile, in thanks, perhaps, for finally taking Charles, himself, in hand and making him so uncommonly happy. Lady Edith- with such graceful yet steely respect, somehow kindred to Elsie and looking more joyful for Mrs Hughes than she has done for anything else bar the presence of Miss Marigold since Mr Gregson's disappearance and death.

To the ever present Dowager Countess- her stern, but approving eye glinting with more than some little happiness at the proceedings surrounding the heads of staff of Downton. And who later, irreverently greeted Charles and Elsie with more goodwill and humour than could properly be hidden behind her inherent need to always have the final word. Charles felt his lips involuntarily twitch at the memory of their exchange as Charles held Elsie's hand in the crook of his arm outside the church.

" _Well, Carson, now we_ _truly_ _have seen some times, you and I."_ The Dowager Countess stated, smiling blithely up at Charles as her hand, shaking slightly with the effects of age, or perhaps a fluttering, ill-contained display of emotion on her part, clasped at the forearm he had automatically extended to steady her progress towards them on the gravel path.

" _Indeed, Your Ladyship, and might I be so bold as to say that this is, at least in my eyes, the very finest of times."_

" _Oh indeed you may, Carson. Indeed you may."_

Then the Dowager's hand, somewhat hesitantly, patted Elsie's gloved hand twice and squeezed lightly, as it laid atop Charles' other arm, and the Dowager remarked as she locked eyes directly with Elsie-

" _And may this 'Old Bat' say that I wish you no finer happiness than I am sure you have both found in each other, My Dear."_

And with that she cocked an eyebrow, smiled with amused imperiousness, turned and walked purposefully away.

" _Well'"_ a somewhat shocked Elsie then breathed out to Charles, _"nothing gets past Her Ladyship now does it?"-_ as she looked after the Dowager making her way towards Lord and Lady Grantham.

" _It never has, my dear"_ Charles had replied with a grin for the bemused and somewhat guilty smirk that Elsie was trying so hard to contain on her glowing face- like that of an errant child finally caught out for a misdemeanour once all need for reparation had long past. _"It never has."_

And Charles saw in his minds-eye again how Elsie had turned and looked up at him with dancing eyes as they shared a small childlike chuckle for the silliness of it all.

And later, when His Lordship looking with stunned and serious school boy eyes, like he might trip up and blunder as he escorted the elegant Mrs Carson, in her unaccustomed finery, in the _second_ waltz of the festivities this time. And Lady Grantham- looking over to them both from Charles' arms throughout that dance, with her understated elegance willingly taking a back seat to Elsie's that day; she had viewed with quiet pride, as is always her way, her handiwork. Always one to know just the right cadence of respectable opulence to have all of Downton presented at its best. And today, Lady Grantham knew that Downton shone through the form of the gifted wedding dress that spoke most eloquently of the character of the lady whose figure it now graced.

And then Mrs Crawley, smiling broadly in mutual support and friendship too, her strident brand of caring an equal match for Elsie's quieter approach- as was proven when Elsie helped some way to pulling that lady out of her grief after Master Crawley's death- all while dragging Charles himself away from his own bitter regrets and pain from his days with Alice and Griggs. But formidable women, both of them. One as a brass band cheering and marching life forward, and then Elsie, quietly gliding and leading a blended waltz of hearts around her calm centre. Then, standing, ever since the war, shoulder to shoulder with Mrs Crawley, was Elsie's fellow countryman, the inscrutable Dr Clarkson- who doffed his hat and nodded towards her with a small respectful smile. Strange, Charles thought, that people often think of Scots as wild and untamed, yet the two Charles knows both have a calm reserve that fits them in with the flow of life around them most admirably. Hmm... Mrs Crawley and Dr Clarkson. Strange, Charles thinks, they both seemed to lean towards each other slightly more as they conversed than Charles has been accustomed to seeing them. Indeed, they both appeared to be quite moved by the day's proceedings. But, yes, those two were indeed some living proof that Elsie has a place in people's lives across many social worlds.

But, oh my! Charles remembers most clearly– the arrival of Mr Branson and darling Miss Sybbie- the light of joy on Elsie's face, as her little link to the world of the upstairs family had returned – and Charles had one more moment of Elsie's unbridled happiness to cherish and file away. For it seems to Charles that the best moments of his life, the fondest memories he has acquired to date, all involve seeing Elsie with the brightest of smiles on her face- like their day paddling at the beach, hand in hand.

And so it is, that from today alone, Charles has harvested a myriad of moments of Elsie smiling, as she saw all her children and friends and peers returning and attending to her own happiness- just as she has rejoiced in their happiness over the years. For Charles, such joy grows in his heart as he has never known- to see her so openly loved and honoured by all who are good enough to be supported and loved and respected by Elsie Hughes. All of these fleeting moments will be touchstones in Charles' own life. Memories to access when he needs reminding of what his duty to Elsie- what his purpose in life- now is. Merely, to ensure that Elsie could be happy more often and smiling as openly and as regularly as their simple daily life can manage.

Elsie, that soft yet formidable silent and gliding lady of the halls and private parlours- the Empress of the spaces behind the grand apartments she has seen scrubbed for glittering display over so many years. Yes, Elsie is the true ruler behind that gilded stage- in those spaces where the mess of real living resides.

CECECECECECECECEE

Lines of a poem pull into focus for Charles. Lines read long ago and memorised over years of repetition.

 _To see a World in a Grain of Sand_

 _And a Heaven in a Wild Flower_

 _Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand_

 _And Eternity in an hour.*_

To see heaven in a wildflower the poet had said. His Scottish wildflower- hardy, but fleeting and delicate like sunlight reflected on barley heads. All of these moments with Elsie- fleeting and delicate- all that can never be held for long enough in the palm of his hand. And yet something in him galvanises in this sigh of a moment on the gently rolling train. It hardens like a tempered steel point within him and rocks him. Deep. These fleeting images rushing over him, flooding over him in the fine and silent spaces between their words, between the click and the slide and the sighs. All in an instant, he thinks- all of life appears in _just one_ instant- his world in a grain of sand. His world and his life with Elsie by his side- all but a brief flicker of light across an ancient landscape. Fleeting and delicate. Yet, if he were indeed able to capture it all, it would surely need an eternity of description.

But life in an instant can be so easily missed. It can drift away and out of sight _far_ too easily.

Fear strikes him to the core. He could have missed all this joy! He could have lost it all! He could have let Elsie drift away because he was too stubborn and obtuse to see what had been in front of him all along. His heart constricts painfully around this shining steel point of realisation.

Yet, as he breathes in her sighs, he somehow knows, that if he were to clasp too hard to it all, it would still slip through his hands and drift away like sands on the summer breeze anyway, and that somehow, he had got it right. Somehow, the sun decided to shine on him. Through absolute, sheer dumb luck it seems! And Charles shakes his head to clear the darkness that had drilled into his mind.

It is enough. All of this is enough, he repeats to himself. Do not regret. It is here. I am here. Elsie is here, and it is enough.

And so Charles knows- there is nothing for him but to love her and to feel this joy that bubbles up from deep within him, from around this sharpened point of realisation. He may not be able to see it or grasp it all, but he can feel what he can whilst it is there, and he is surely tickled by it all.

CECECECEECE

But by far the clearest vision from today, the one that Charles will recall the most vividly and that will forever be held safe in the deepest part of his heart- was the moment when Elsie first appeared in the sun kist arch of the church doorway. Just as Mr Bates relinquished his supporting arm and Elsie began her strong and solitary progress towards an everlasting union. Elsie- as serious, calm, and reverent as ever her face has been in church. But today! Oh- she was so much more! -smiling and joyful. Her fiery free spirit then seemed to dance forth across her face, it swayed through the movement of her gown – it weaved and swirled in a mesmerising reel- blending a visible magic before Charles' eyes that waltzed straight into his heart.

 _Today- my sweet heaven!_ \- he breathes silently to himself now- Oh how she had emerged as if from the light of angels wings it seemed, and entered that small house of God like a regal queen floating towards home through the dust speckled sunlight of the arched doorway. As in a dream- a royal lustred purple dusk coat, delicately embroidered- like the stars in the midnight firmament- a floating wrap of the cloths of heaven enshrining this majestic woman. A cloak of soft armour to show the strength of this woman that many have sensed in her over the years- they have been drawn to her by it- often unconsciously. And it is a strength that Charles knows only he has had the privilege to observe and walk beside this closely, over so many hours and years. Her cloth mantle a symbol of the house and all the hearts she has shielded and held up, and held on to, and stitched back together, and stitched to one another, and hoisted on high to receive the light again.

And below that cloak of honour and strength and stability – as ever- her softness and the lightness of her heart was showing through. This- _yes_ it is this- this is the very foundation that upholds that silent regal outer cloak of unselfconscious and graceful strength. Charles could see this was the eternal truth of Elsie- that her courage is found in the opening up of herself and giving shelter to vulnerable and breaking hearts, and in doing so, exposing her own vulnerability. Beneath that mantle of her strength, peeking through, ever-present - those parts of Elsie that have never been, and could never be crushed- even after years of toil in service to people- she has always known- _he_ has always known- she is truly equal to. All embodied in silk and floating mauve – the softness that is his dear lady's kind and loving, pure and courageous heart.

 _Ana a strange paradox of life it is_ , Charles realises in a flash - _that the strongest things in life are woven from such fine and silken threads. That the deepest strength of anyone is found, not in the harshness of the_ steely _rampart of the war zone, defending ground that never was ours to own – things taken by force. No, for if the War has taught us anything,_ Charles thinks, _it is that to be brave with a gun that only takes away life leads only to the further weakening of our souls in the face of great hatred. No. No._ _True strength and bravery, thought Charles, is found instead in what a person can give of themselves to others at the risk of great pain, and without the expectation of reward. This is Elsie's strength._

 _And a strange paradox of life it is also,_ Charles thinks, _that this revelation can occur to him in a flicker of an_ instant- _and that the truth of it should reveal itself so clearly to me on this day- their day – that true strength, my own strength, such as it is, is grown in such a soft and pliable and giving place – nurtured by this lady seated beside me_. Elsie- who has picked through the weft and weave of his own rough-hewn cloths of identity to expose the vulnerable softness and the great and giving heart he has kept hidden for so long.

 _And how strange it is_ , he thinks- _curious and strange- how the mind can process so much detail in a grain of sand, an eternity of love and life in fleeting images and single moments of time._ In the click and the slide and the turning of scalloped light- he holds what he can of it all and shunts the memories into place, bringing them home and filing them safely in the ledger of his heart until the end.

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N: *** **Auguries of Innocence- William Blake c.1803**

 **Full Text:**

AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE

oOOo

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour.

oOOo

A Robin Red breast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage.

A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons

Shudders Hell thro' all its regions.

oOOo

A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate

Predicts the ruin of the State.

A Horse misus'd upon the Road

Calls to Heaven for Human blood.

oOOo

Each outcry of the hunted Hare

A fibre from the Brain does tear.

A Skylark wounded in the wing,

A Cherubim does cease to sing.

oOOo

The Game Cock clip'd & arm'd for fight

Does the Rising Sun affright.

Every Wolf's & Lion's howl

Raises from Hell a Human Soul.

oOOo

The wild deer, wand'ring her & there,

Keeps the Human Soul from Care.

The Lamb misus'd breeds Public strife

And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife.

oOOo

The Bat that flits at close of Eve

Has left the Brain that won't Believe.

The Owl that calls upon the Night

Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.

oOOo

He who shall hurt the little Wren

Shall never be belov'd by Men.

He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd

Shall never be by Woman lov'd.

oOOo

The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

Shall feel the Spider's enmity.

He who torments the Chafer's sprite

Weaves a Bower in endless Night.

oOOo

The Caterpillar on the Leaf

Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief.

Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,

For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.

oOOo

He who shall train the Horse to War

Shall never pass the Polar Bar.

The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat,

Feed them & thou wilt grow fat.

oOOo

The Gnat that sings his Summer's song

Poison gets from Slander's tongue.

The poison of the Snake & Newt

Is the sweat of Envy's Foot.

oOOo

The Poison of the Honey Bee

Is the Artist's Jealousy.

The Prince's Robes & Beggar's Rags

Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags.

oOOo

A truth that's told with bad intent

Beats all the Lies you can invent.

It is right it should be so;

Man was made for Joy & Woe;

oOOo

And when this we rightly know

Thro' the World we safely go,

Joy & Woe are woven fine,

A Clothing for the Soul divine;

oOOo

Under every grief & pine

Runs a joy with silken twine.

The Babe is more than swadling Bands;

Throughout all these Human Lands

oOOo

Tools were made, & Born were hands,

Every Farmer Understands.

Every Tear from Every Eye

Becomes a Babe in Eternity;

oOOo

This is caught by Females bright

And return'd to its own delight.

The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar

Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore.

oOOo

The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

Writes Revenge in realms of death.

The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air,

Does to Rags the Heavens tear.

oOOo

The Soldier, arm'd with Sword & Gun,

Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun.

The poor Man's Farthing is worth more

Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore.

oOOo

One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands

Shall buy & sell the Miser's Lands:

Or, if protected from on high,

Does the whole Nation sell & buy.

oOOo

He who mocks the Infant's Faith

Shall be mock'd in Age & Death.

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out.

oOOo

He who respects the Infant's faith

Triumphs over Hell & Death.

The Child's Toys & the Old Man's Reasons

Are the Fruits of the Two seasons.

oOOo

The Questioner, who sits so sly,

Shall never know how to Reply.

He who replies to words of Doubt

Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.

oOOo

The Strongest Poison ever known

Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown.

Nought can deform the Human Race

Like to the Armour's iron brace.

oOOo

When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.

A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry

Is to Doubt a fit Reply.

oOOo

The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's Mile

Make Lame Philosophy to smile.

He who Doubts from what he sees

Will ne'er Believe, do what you Please.

oOOo

If the Sun & Moon should doubt,

They'd immediately Go out.

To be in a Passion you Good may do,

But no Good if a Passion is in you.

oOOo

The Whore & Gambler, by the State

Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate.

The Harlot's cry from Street to Street

Shall weave old England's winding Sheet.

oOOo

The Winners Shout, the Loser's Curse,

Dance before dead England's Hearse.

Every Night & every Morn

Some to Misery are Born.

oOOo

Every Morn & every Night

Some are Born to sweet delight.

Some are Born to sweet delight,

Some are Born to Endless Night.

oOOo

We are led to Believe a Lie

When we see not Thro' the Eye

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light.

oOOo

God Appears & God is Light

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night,

But does a Human Form Display

To those who Dwell in Realms of day.

oOOo

THE END

 **CECECECECE**


	7. Chapter 7- A Wee Dram

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 7- A Wee Dram**

All in an instant- in flicking of a grain of sand- in the blinking of an eye- Charles has seen all this – his wedding day so far flitting across his minds-eye and he feels the veil has been lifted from his own eyes. The shroud is thrown off and he feels intensely alive as he sits beside his Elsie on the rolling and rhythmically rocking train. As they set out on this new journey together he feels clear of head and of heart and fairly bursting at the seams with unadulterated joy – the revelation of his life. But still, no words can he find that will do these feelings justice. Yet, now he has some small hope that Elsie will always understand him best, purely because of who she is- how she is, and so he feels it behoves him to always try to share with her what he feels inside. And so he tries.

As the impressions appear, and before they can slip completely from his grasp, Charles looks to Elsie by his side to tell her.

"By the way," his voice rumbles low in his chest as he leans in closer to her, almost conspiratorially, enveloping her in a secret, private space that stretches no further than the rise and fall of his warm breath upon her cheek, "have I mentioned that you presented quite the regal vision of loveliness when you walked down the aisle towards me earlier today?"

Elsie's breath is caught in her chest as his declaration trickles low and sweet over her face, like cool brook water over smooth riverbed stones- it runs deep within her. His voice not quite a whisper, it never will be- as she knows after all of these years by his side, for his deep baritone is not so easily subdued, and its rich tones seem to embody for her all the rugged Yorkshire mystery and beauty that is Charles.

 _Oh! and what a thing to say_ , thinks Elsie, with a very pleased smile on her face. They had barely had time to speak two score of words to each other after the church service. It had seemed that almost everyone in the village was greeting them with well wishes and congratulations.

Charles' voice slides over her again, encasing Elsie in its deep and mellow warmth as she holds her breath.

"I have never seen any of the ladies of the house look quite as beautiful as you did today in the crisp morning sunlight as it flooded through the arched doorway of the church. You quite took my breath away.' He murmurs softly from somewhere deep in his chest- inside his heart- his lips barely moving. She is enchanted. He looks intensely into her eyes and Elsie cannot look away. A smile sparkles in her deep blue eyes and she exhales the heady tension of the private moment he has built with her. _Will wonders never cease,_ she thinks to herself, _where is my blustering butler? -Semi-disgusted at the lack of propriety that such blurring social boundaries this train ride in first class would normally cause in him! He is being quite the poet with me now!_

In their normal setting, if Mr Carson ever sounded this serious or waxed so lyrical at work, she would have found some sharp poniard to throw back over her shoulder at his sentimentality, as she strode away. She would find a retort that would root him to the spot as she put him in his place. But this is different. This is not the inaccessible, buttoned-up butler speaking to her now. This is not that same man speaking. This is Charles- _her Charles_ \- and Elsie can see him clearly in this moment and she knows that he is not just trying to flatter her. Elsie knows she will not try to put him in any sort of place that might drive a space between them in this moment. He has meant every word he has said to her and it all comes from the depths of his sweet and brim full heart. She has no words.

Elsie bites on the inside of her lip to help control the tears of happiness that well up, unbidden, from her heart into the corners of her eyes in this very moment. Charles reaches tentatively to her lips and smoothes his thumb across the corner of her bottom lip that is caught lightly in her teeth. His other hand cups her face and dashes a small tear away from her high cheekbone before it can fall onto her silken collar. His steady hands span the sides of her face with infinite gentleness, much as he had held her that first time he had kissed her in his pantry. Elsie's hand reaches to cover the back of his own and then he leans in and brushes his lips, feather-light, against hers. Elsie swallows and draws in a shallow and quietly shuddering breath, still not at all used to this level of physical contact with Mr Carson. Charles' eyes smiled softly as he slowly moves his head back from hers.

"Will wonders never cease" he murmurs, "my Elsie with no sharp retorts".

"Quiet you," she smiles through the tears that have welled up in her eyes, and she clips him lightly on his upper arm with her open palm, "or you will be hearing the sharpness of my tongue before you can even blink."

And on a sudden impulse, she reaches for his lapels and draws him down for another kiss, deeper this time. Longer. Her tongue instead of sharp is beguilingly soft as it tentatively glides along his lower lip. Elsie hears his sudden intake of breath and she feels a tingling pang drive low into her belly at its sound.

"Grhmmph "he half groans, half grumbles as they part. One of Charles' eyebrows kinks slightly skyward as he eyes her intensely.

"My very own Gaelic Faerie Witch Queen, upbraiding me again".

Elsie notes that the tone of his voice is huskier than she has ever heard it before, and the eyes that smile back at her are much darker, suggesting a new mystery that might break through- one that she will have to uncover - later.

Reluctantly, Elsie draws back, still not really knowing what had possessed her to be so forward with him, but she knows that she must withdraw before she loses herself completely in his arms. Wide-eyed, she sinks back into the seat with a shaky but contented sigh. Charles keeps a tight hold upon her hand and does not take his eyes from her flushed face.

"Pfew! Well…well" she says, "this morning has all been a bit much, I must say. I feel I could do with a wee dram of whiskey to find my footing again before you read that letter from Lady Rose. It has been quite a day- and we haven't even made it to luncheon!"

"The finest Scotch whiskey," he intones in his best butler voice, "As you wish Milady" –Charles replies as he leans towards the door to signal for a carriage porter.

Elsie quickly sits upright and reaches for his arm.

"Och! You daft man! It's far too early in the day for that sort of thing. Whatever would people think of me-drinking scotch in the middle of the day?!" she exclaims.

"Milady, need I remind you, we are privately seated in a first class carriage. No one is going to raise so much as an eyebrow when they think that the fine gentleman sitting next to you is the one drinking said scotch in the middle of the day, whilst we devour a plate of sandwiches, and you demurely prepare a cups of tea from a pot- both of which I intend to order along with that DOUBLE scotch." He lowers his voice in mock secrecy. "We'll go halves in that wee dram, I believe." And he winks at her then. "Your honour shall not be besmirched by a paltry tumbler of whiskey under my watch Milady." And Carson gives her his best, deadpanned butler's face.

"And what, pray tell, Mr Carson, is all this 'Milady' palaver you are on about? I do believe you may be trying to lead me astray," Elsie chuckles.

"Oh you don't know the half of yet, Milady" he growls out low and close to her ear and with a glint of animal steel darkening his eyes.

Elsie's breath hitches as she turns and plunges even deeper into his eyes. She finds herself reflected back from those very sultry depths, her mouth slightly open with want and at a total loss for words once more.

 **CECECECECE**

 **Just a bit more than a dram or a drabble. A bit of a teaser for 'ron. Next up - Lady Rose's letter- I promise!**

 **Next up - Lady Rose's letter- I promise!**


	8. Chapter 8- Planned Performances

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 8 – Planned Performances**

 **Disclaimer-** **I don't own any of them, nor do I profit from them. JF and others do- I do try to handle them all respectfully.**

 **A/N: Ok- now the bounds of realism truly get stretched- especially given the financial duress the Downton Estate always seems to be under! I do not honestly believe the Grantham's regard for their servants would actually stretch to the sort of opulence I describe in this chapter, even if the money were available- but hey- it is a romance I am trying to write here- and Rags to Riches stuff fits in with that.**

 **I hope you like my little conceit/folly- and I have researched various aspects of this to try and keep it fairly historically accurate. I will leave quite extensive and relevant notes/ links at the end of the next chapters if you are interested in such things, but they should not be necessary to understanding the rest of the story should you want to skip it all. Sorry! It must be the student in me- always needing to justify and cite my sources!**

 **CECECECECE**

Once their luncheon and the whisky has been delivered, Charles opens the letter from Lady Rose Aldridge that the carriage porter handed to them. He reads it aloud to Elsie and by the end of it they are both ready for another shot of whisky each- so shocked are they by its contents and the extent of the regard that the family obviously has for them, bestowing no less than a royal invitation upon their servants. For Charles' part, he feels more than a little uncomfortable, even miffed, about the whole affair that has seemed to him to hijack, somewhat, their special day. He blusters a little about how he never thought he would ever have to frequent such a place again in his lifetime.

Elsie is drawn out of her initial shock by his response and roundly tells him that, "You ought not to look this particular gift horse in the mouth, Mr Carson". And then she smiles broadly at him. "I should love to go, for whenever else in our humble lives will such a chance come our way again? Hmm? And just think, we may even be able to say hello to Alfred before we head back to Scarborough- see how he is getting on," Elsie goes on excitedly. "Not to mention the fact that it will be my first big theatre show I will have seen, and those types of songs from these new musicals are so enchanting and fun!" - Elsie has heard this pair on the wireless radio, and from a record that she has heard Lady Rose play on the gramophone in the library. " _AND_ , besides which, might I remind you Mr Carson," Elsie adds, her brogue thickening and her Rs rolling evermore appealingly into his ears as she builds up her head of steam, "that I have even heard YOU humming along and singing the lines of one of their tunes, and more than once I might add, despite the fact that you are always espousing an open dislike for this new jazz music. _And finally_ , need I even say it? - You daft old Booby!- That we can afford to live a little, you and I!" And on that note, Elsie folds her arms across her front, straightens up tall and strikes her eyes steadily ahead of her.

With what appears to be the final word on the matter, Charles just smiles and raises his hands in defeat at the glittering mischief he detects in Elsie's eyes and on her upturned mouth as she glances smugly back towards him. He lightly blows a puff of air from his nostrils to stop himself from chuckling out loud at her display. He knows there was no point in arguing with his Elsie when she presents her views to him in such a beguiling manner! He knows it is best to relent and attend to the evening's entertainment without further complaint. Even though he is not entirely happy about going to the theatre, what with all that it will do to remind him of his years of foolishness, but, the fact that Elsie is so keen on the idea seals the deal for Charles.

Lady Rose's letter explains their itinerary for their two night stay in London, starting with their underground train transfer from Kings Cross Station to the Ritz Hotel on Green Park. This has been thought for the best as Lord and Lady Grantham will be using Grantham House from the coming Monday as they are seeing to Lady Edith and Miss Marigold's resettling at Mr Gregson's apartment and will then be attending to the remainder of the London season. In the evening, Charles and Elsie are to be taken by hansom cab to the Empire Theatre in Leicester Square for an 8pm performance of the new George and Ira Gershwin musical comedy _"Lady Be Good!"_ The play is starring the current darlings of dance and song on stages _anywhere_ , Adele and Fred Astaire.

Elsie, for one, feels like a giddy school girl.

 _What fun this will be!_ They have heard Lady Rose speak rapturously of the Astaire's last tour to London with another show called "Stop Flirting" in 1923. Lady Rose had enjoyed it so much that she had purchased an early copy of Fred and Adele's first 78 recording. And it is one of the songs from that production and record that had found its way, quite unconsciously, into Charles' head. Elsie and others in the house, to be sure, have caught him softly singing parts of it on more than one occasion. Particularly since Elsie agreed to marry him and he has seemed to trip a little lighter through his daily tasks in the great house- the big booby!

 _*And if I had no fear_

 _Here's what you would hear_

 _oOOo_

 _I dream about you, scheme about you_

 _Nighttime and day_

 _Mad about you, sad about you_

 _When you're away_

 _oOOo_

 _No day's complete, Dear_

 _Until we meet, Dear_

 _But with our meeting_

 _My heart just stops beating_

 _oOOo_

 _Riding, walking, thinking, talking_

 _You're in my heart_

 _Am I in it ev'ry minute_

 _Near or apart_

 _You can't express it_

 _So how can I guess…*_

 _oOOo_

However, Charles never got quite so caught up in it that he sang aloud the somewhat silly refrain that followed. Instead, he would richly hum through it with a happy smile on his lips.

Charles really has no response to Elsie's accusation. He has indeed been getting caught up in some of his old skills as a song and dance man. This new jazz music is undoubtedly bubbly and happy and it seems to speak of the new life that is seeping back into the world- now that the war sits at a more suitable distance in their memories for such sentiments to rise again. Charles thinks that perhaps he should blame Elsie a little for this somewhat reckless behaviour breaking through in him anyway! All that aside, Charles reasons that since it is still her wedding day, and if tonight's events can bring that smile he loves to see so much on her face and in her eyes again, then Charles will gladly endure the discomfort of seeing a musical comedy that even the Prince of Wales himself has been known to attend several times already- even this early in its London run! Charles decides to make the best of it, and indeed, he is beginning to see how the whole event will play nicely into a certain idea that has been developing in his mind about how their first night together as husband and wife may proceed.

In fact, the biggest shock to them is the fact that they will be seated in a private box, normally reserved for guests of the Prince himself. All the letter to Charles and Elsie says is that Lady Rose and his Lordship had earned and invitation quite a while back for 'invaluable services rendered to the Crown' and they have had permission granted to transfer the tickets onto Charles And Elsie, also as a gift for invaluable services rendered- this time to the Grantham family. Of course, all of this, to Charles and Elsie's experienced ears, sounds like Lady Rose and the Crawleys had somehow averted a scandal for the Prince (probably during Lady Rose's presentation season) that he felt compelled to recompense them for. But, quite unusually for Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes, it was not a series of events that either of them was personally privy to at that time. They both figure that this will probably make things easier for them, as they will no doubt have to mingle on a social level, rather than a completely servile level, tonight with the acquaintances of actual royalty. Ignorance of the truth will, therefore, remain their bliss for this evening.

CECECECECE

Later, after the news of the nature of their redirected honeymoon has sunk in a little more and the luncheon trays have been removed from the cabin, Elsie feels unaccountably dozy for such an early hour of the day. The energetic buzz and tension of the wedding morning have worn off and she feels her eyes glazing, even though she had slept reasonably well last night. She supposes this was uncommon for someone about to be married, but really, once Elsie was secure in the knowledge of the depth of Charles' regard for her, she knew he would be as reliable and punctual as he ever has been when it comes to a big event in Downton, and that nothing untoward would happen on her big day like it had done with poor Lady Edith and that rascal Strallan. Truth be told, Charles had been the nervous and restless one overnight, believing he would forget how to recite his vows, or that something far worse might happen…. _But, no, none of it bore thinking about now_. It was done and somehow the sun had shone upon their moment and Charles had ended up sitting in clover along with everything he ever wanted.

Charles senses Elsie starting to wilt next to him and encourages her to rest for a while. It is now going to be quite a late night after a very long day of travel, what with the train still close to two hours from Kings Cross Station. Charles folds a small company supplied blanket from the carriage rack into a cushion of sorts and places it behind Elsie's neck. Once he has placed a light kiss upon her lips, Elsie sighs and lets the rhythmic rocking of the train soothe her into a most uncommon mid-afternoon nap.

In the instant of her sigh, in the stroking movement of the carriage along smooth and silver steel, Charles finds himself repeating lines from that silly ditty of the Astaire's. This time, he really focusses on the meaning of the words to him, and for the first time he imagines that it actually was Elsie who had sung the call and response with him all those times it had played its way into his mind from the library gramophone.

 _*Feint heart never won fair lady_

 _Then you don't forget_

 _You must be bold_

 _Like knights of old_

 _oOOo_

 _You have, oh, so many faults_

 _You're not the type, and yet_

 _Somehow I like you so_

 _Though why I do not know*_

 _oOOo_

And through its repetition in his mind, Charles had realised that somehow she still liked him, despite all of his faults and crabby ways. And so he had finally found a way to overcome his own feintness of heart to become bold enough to ask for her hand in marriage.

In the considered timing and the touching of the steel of wheels on tracks, like the touching of a blade to the shoulders of a true knight of the realm, Charles feels his chest bursting with pride once more, as he remembers how his eyes and heart were filled with the vision of her beauty and her purity in the church this morning- all of her unstudied grace that comes from a place of inherent goodness. He feels, once more, the memory of her steady hand as she firmly took his own at the altar. In the exhalation of Elsie's slumbering breath, Charles hears his own voice from earlier, resounding inside his head- the steady deep baritone announcing his wedding vows to her as he stared into the bright but inky-sea blue depths of her eyes, knowing that she has faith in the truth of his heart's desire. And it was that truth that he tried to imbue into every word of the vows he made to her. There had been no fear in that moment that was just for them- private and sacred- despite being shared in the House of God that was filled with all the people of the village, and all the memories of the loves and losses that mark the passages of all their lives. The church houses the grief and joys of a whole town- the marriages, births and baptisms, illnesses and hardships, and the inexorable march of ruthless time towards death. Yet the summer morning today had smelled of sweet crepe jasmine and was filled with the warmth of the rising midsummer sun. _Surely, it was a sign. A benediction. A blessing._ Charles feels the truth of it all still burning in his mind and heart- making his vows to Elsie was the finest duty he has ever performed in his long life of servitude. He is proud to have taken that oath and is determined to live by it truly: to be the protector of her honour and the defender of the faith she has in him. He only hopes he can live up to his sacred duty.

Charles sits on the train in the private universe of their cabin, looking down towards his beautiful new wife. Elsie has instinctively leant towards him in her slumber, their upper arms now touching. What a luscious new pleasure Charles finds this to be. Her head lolls closer to him and finally comes to rest upon his shoulder. And such sweet bliss it is to be able to support her head- to touch her so closely in their 'private little space in public' that the cabin has provided them. Charles relishes the fact that he has the right now, as her husband, to support her thus without risk of censure.

Charles gazes at her and marvels once more at the nature of memory and of the human heart's capacity for love. All of the sensations of the day course new and bright and fresh through his system-pulsing in the space between the light breaths Elsie exhales and that seep warmly over him and is quickly followed by a refreshing coolness as she inhales away from his skin through the weight of his morning suit jacket. All Charles' sudden insights and the expanse of his love for her have galvanised in the billowing, calming essence of life that escapes her lips – with the inhalation and the exhalation of his whole world – for such it seems to Charles in that moment.

Charles sits and considers the miraculous clarity of thought and feeling he has experienced since they first settled into this train journey that is the symbol of the new direction their lives have taken today. From his awareness of Elsie's status as a queen amongst people, an idea had begun percolating in his mind. He knew that he must try to explain to Elsie how all these notions about her and their life and their love have flooded over him today- to try to make her understand all that she means to him. Earlier he saw that he had come close, and he was grateful that it seemed Elsie could fill in some of the gaps in his sentiments that he could not articulate as well as he had hoped to. But he wants her to know it all – to know him completely and he wants her to take from him all that he is feeling and all the love that he so desperately wants to give her. When they had kissed so deeply, the idea of how to show her had begun to form. And, in the face of the invitation to a royal box seat at the theatre tonight and their installation in such a grand hotel (a fitting end to the day his queen had shined brightest, Charles now feels), his plan has solidified. His mind turns to tonight and the intimacy he hopes they will share in their hotel room together, and how he will say – in not so many words- all of the things he needs to ensure she understands _all_ of these things- these things that he has only fully realised for himself today. He knows what he might do to show her- to mark the moment for her- and make her fully understand that to her, above all others, his allegiance has been set and that it is utterly immovable.

Charles sends up a quick prayer to his maker, that they will not both be completely exhausted from the heady events of the day for him to be able to make good on his promise. For, to Charles, now that they were to mingle with the acquaintances of the Prince, no less, the stage was surely set. All of his skills, his studied restraint, from years in service- the theatricality of style that he felt made life worth living- would now come into play. He will pour himself into the role he is now assigned in life and he will give his all to Elsie in what he hopes will be the performance of his life.

 **CECECECECE**

 **Quite a few historical Notes if you are interested… although they are not necessary to understand the ongoing fiction.**

 **From what I can glean from good** ol **' Wikipedia, the Great Northern Line from Yorkshire terminated at Kings Cross Station, even in 1926, and the same company had a tube station run to Green Park where the Ritz is situated, so Chelsie could hop it to the hotel quite easily thereafter. A private 2-person covered single horse-drawn hansom cab to the theatre in the evening seems to be more reasonable transport for a night at the theatre, although I concede it could have been a motor vehicle to Leicester Square instead. In fact, there were apparently only 12 licensed hansom cabs left in London by 1927- /HistoryUK/HistoryofBritain/Joseph-Hansom-the-Hansom-Cab/. But let's just keep up the romance factor in this little folly, shall we?!**

 **Anyway there it all is- my other fandom obsession- the life's work of one amazing artist- the incomparable Fred Astaire. I am a sucker for all of FA's musicals and couldn't pass up the opportunity to pretend that somehow Chelsie could have seen Fred and his sister Adele Astaire at the height of their stage fame, especially since the jazz/swing age was really about this burgeoning exposure of sexuality and youthful exuberance after WW1- fitting for a honeymoon** fic **I reckon. My only concern is, from what I have read of Fanfiction protocols- I am not sure I am really meant to bring actual historical persons into a fiction. Meh… I intend to keep this all very respectable, so hopefully, no harm will be done!**

 **I have always liked the following review of FA's appeal and given that he is THE style icon of the 20th Century (Cary Grant and Marlene Deitrich are equal seconds in my book), hopefully my melding of the Downton world with these artists from that era will start to gel as a reasonable proposition with a few readers out there.**

 **As one reviewer of Fred's work said _: "A very distinguished colleague began his criticism of this show by asking what is Mr Astaire's secret. May I suggest that the solution hangs on a little word of three letters? Mr Astaire's secret is that of the late Rudolph Valentino and of Mr Maurice Chevalier — sex, but sex so bejewelled and be-pixied that the weaker vessels who fall for it can pretend that it isn't sex at all but a sublimated projection of the Little Fellow with the Knuckles in His Eyes. You'd have thought by the look of the first-night foyer that it was Mothering Thursday, since every woman in the place was urgent to take to her bosom this waif with the sad eyes and the twinkling feet._**

 ** _Theatre critic James Agate in a review of a 1933 London performance of_ _Gay Divorce_ _as quoted in Cooke, Alistair. "Fred Astaire Obituary",_ _Letter From America_ _, BBC World Service, June 28, 1987._**

 **So I think this all kind of links into the Chelsie ship in the 1920s quite well. Uncovering sexuality in a not too obvious way- and all with the optimum of style. _"If you're tired of style, you're tired of life"_ after all! That is Carson's take on it, so who am I to argue! I am just bending the truth of a fictional character a little bit more my way! I hope others like it.**

 **For those who may not know, Fred and Adele Astaire were actually the mega stars of their day in Broadway and West End musical comedies- which was a fresh, new and exciting genre that really grew out of the optimism of the building US capitalist imperialism of the early 20th century. I find it to be a fascinating amalgam of the high society and African American rhythms. It is hard to overestimate the impact Adele and, especially, Fred Astaire ended up having** on **both Jazz/swing music and tap and ballroom dance styles at the time and for FA- well into the 20th Century. The Astaires inspired much of the work of the likes of the Gershwins, Cole Porter and Irving Berlin (the great American songbook!- much of it introduced in recordings by FA first). The Astaires were close friends with many of these musicians in and they, in** turn **were inspired to write music for the song and dance pair.**

 **I also love that FA was a true gentleman, like Charles (less prejudiced, though!). He was respectful of the African American artists who developed both the music and also the Tap styles in this age (Bojangles Robinson, and particularly John W. Bubbles). FA's one, very uncomfortable foray into black-face on film ( _Swing Time 1936),_ can _kind of, almost (but not really)_ be viewed as a sort of tribute to both these men, more so the latter, in style. But still, blackface makes my skin crawl and FA apparently was never a fan of it either. Unfortunately, because of the way society was at the time, FA ended up doing this one piece and yet he never danced on film as an equal with any of the African American greats- it would have been so cool to see him with the Nicholas Brothers, even though their circus-like athleticism was a very different style to FA's. I can still dream, though .**

 **Adele was actually seen as the really natural dancer and star of the duo in their vaudeville and musical theatre years, and Fred apparently made her shine by acting as the innocent** young-boy **/ serious foil for her squeaky/ Mickey Mouse / dizzy slapstick persona. Fred was the driving force behind their dance routines and quite the dedicated perfectionist, whereas Adele hated rehearsals and was more spontaneous. Adele was much sort after by various high society** beaus **in London and New York- even the Prince of Wales apparently courted her for a while. She ended up retiring in the early 1930s- marrying** a Lord **Cavendish, no less! (Irish Estate).**

 **Fred became a style icon for men's fashion over the years. He and Adele enjoyed the high society and styles of London in the 1920s and Fred really followed the dress style of the Prince of Wales at the time and went to the best tailors in London (Saville Row, Jermyn Street; Anderson & Sheppard, etc), he wore a signet ring and copied the Duke of Windsor's famous tie knotting technique- which was then the height of fashion, and even modified his Omaha accent to a more clipped Noel Coward style of English accent, due to the amount of time spent in that country. You will not hear it so much in his later musicals and recordings as he drops into a more relaxed American intonation. Later his style of dress was quite individual and had certain quirks distinct to him, but it ended up embodying a relaxed elegance and individualism that was distinctly 20th century American.**

 **Some books that have been useful for understanding the impact of Fred Astaire on the popular culture of the jazz age are: Kathleen Riley's - _The Astaires- Fred and Adele_ ; Fred Astaire's Autobiography- _Steps in Time_ ; and Todd Decker's- _Music Makes Me: Fred Astaire and Jazz_. None of them ** are **a particularly scintillating read, but good info and insights nonetheless. This Wiki quote link is a good way to get a feel for how others have viewed FA's body of work and his persona. wiki/Fred_Astaire**

 **Here is a link to the early recording Lady Rose is supposed to have owned and Charles is caught singing- if you want to hear it watch?v=nOqB9WtFPEs**. . **Below are the full lyrics to the song Charles has been caught singing. As you can see, I really don't think he would be caught _dead_ singing the refrain out loud- it is very silly! Although Fred and Adele, as real life brother and sister, they sing this tune in stage character as a love song, they actually generally played a brother and sister team in their stage musicals, each having outside love interests. Good thing really – too squicky otherwise! So, they would not have performed this particular song on stage together.**

 ***OH GEE ! OH GOSH !**

 ** _From the Broadway show "For Goodness Sake" (1922)_**

 ** _(William Daly / Paul Lanin / Ira Gershwin)_**

 ** _Fred & Adele Astaire (From the London Production of_**

 ** _"Stop Flirting", with George W. Byng & Orch) – 1923_**

 **FRED:**

 **There is something I must say**

 **But just hate to discuss**

 **Because I'm shy, I guess that's why**

 **It's about me, I mean you**

 **I mean, uh, the two of us**

 **And if I had no fear**

 **Here's what you would hear**

 **oOOo**

 **I dream about you, scheme about you**

 **Nighttime and day**

 **Mad about you, sad about you**

 **When you're away**

 **ADELE:**

 **No day's complete, Dear**

 **Until we meet, Dear**

 **But with our meeting**

 **My heart just stops beating**

 **FRED:**

 **Riding, walking, thinking, talking**

 **You're in my heart**

 **ADELE:**

 **Am I in it ev'ry minute**

 **FRED:**

 **Near or apart**

 **ADELE:**

 **You can't express it**

 **So how can I guess**

 **FRED:**

 **Oh Gee, Oh Gosh, Oh Golly, I love you**

 **ADELE:**

Feint **heart never won fair lady**

 **Then you don't forget**

 **You must be bold**

 **Like knights of old**

 **You have, oh, so many faults**

 **You're not the type, and yet**

 **Somehow I like you so**

 **Though why I do not know**

 **FRED:**

 **I dream about you, scheme about you**

 **Nighttime and day**

 **Mad about you, sad about you**

 **When you're away**

 **ADELE:**

 **No day's complete, Dear**

 **Until we meet, Dear**

 **But with our meeting**

 **My heart just stops beating**

 **FRED:**

 **Riding, walking, thinking, talking**

 **You're in my heart**

 **ADELE:**

 **Am I in it ev'ry minute**

 **FRED:**

 **Near or apart**

 **ADELE:**

 **You can't express it**

 **So how can I guess**

 **FRED:**

 **Oh Gee, Oh Gosh, Oh Golly, I love you**

 ** _TRIVIA (1): On October 18, 1923, HMV Records invited Fred and Adele_**

 ** _Astaire to record two of their songs, "Oh Gee! Oh Gosh!" and "The_**

 ** _Whichness of the Whatness", from the London production of their_**

 ** _show "Stop Flirting". The record was released only in the U.K., on_**

 ** _the 78-R.P.M. disc HMV B-1719. It was Astaire's first record release._**

 ** _TRIVIA (2): "Stop Flirting was the UK re-titling of the Broadway_**

 **Hit _For Goodness Sake_**

 **Sourced from**

 ** _**_ You've gotta admit- those lyrics are Chelsie! **

**_CECECECECE_**

 ** _Other Notes_**

 **The Astaire's were afforded Royal patronage during their times in London, and even King George and Queen Mary attended one of the last performances of _Lady Be Good!_ The Prince of Wales was known to attend the Astaires' musicals regularly (the 1923 production of _Stop Flirting_ he attended about 10 times). However, the only historical evidence I have found in Astaire bios and the like about the London run of _Lady Be Good!_ is that he attended the finale. Although the Prince of Wales courted Adele Astaire for a while, it was actually Prince Albert (Duke of York and later King George VI), Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon (later the Queen Mother), and Prince George (later the Duke of Kent) that the Astaires related to better and they all attended the Astaire's performances on numerous occasions. The Astaire's were feted at all the trendy London night clubs frequented by the aristocracy at the time, such as the Embassy Club, the Kit-Kat Club, and Café de Paris. The Astaire's were even privately invited to meet the new Princess Elizabeth on August 10th of 1926.**

 **The date I have chosen for Chelsie to be married and then attend the theatre performance of _Lady Be Good!_ is early in the shows London run and it is actually the date of the future Queen Elizabeth II 's baptism, which the Prince of Wales attended , as far as I can ascertain from Royal engagements recorded I have dug into on the net. (from book- Whitaker's Britain . . /books?id=_WurAAAAQBAJ &pg=PA60&lpg=PA60&dq=prince+of+wales+may+1926+royal+engagements&source=bl&ots=1KAj1vgFRZ&sig=W0UOHj60o52iIEQSYZWTMJOpgc4&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiDoeTB2YzPAhVE6GMKHRWGB_gQ6AEIOjAF#v=onepage&q=prince%20of%20wales%20may%201926%20royal%20engagements&f=false ).**

 **So, whether the Prince of Wales would then have begged off his other possible 'royal-family-gathering duties' to attend the theatre that night is debatable. I am going right into the realms of fantasy with this fic anyway, so I am going to say that he does, because he is historically known for his impulsiveness (a la the Lady Rose/ letter / Freda Dudley Ward scandal in the TV show), and so I think he may not have been one to stand on any ceremony for any royal family baptismal dinner, or the like, that evening.**

 **On another note, _Lady Be Good!_ Was actually the final theatrical show to play at the Empire Theatre. It was closed after the Astaire's very successful 326 show run, and the theatre was knocked down and then rebuilt in 1928 as MGMs new flagship movie cinema in Leicester Square. This cinema still runs today. wiki/Empire,_Leicester_Square**

 **(Much of this historical info about the Royals and the highly successful Empire Theatre run of _Lady Be Good!_ is derived from Kathleen Riley's detailed book- _The Astaires: Adele and Fred_ (2012, pp. 84-87)**

 **That is enough historical filling in for the moment, but do go out of your way to watch some FA musicals if you haven't already- they will make you smile! _Swing Time_ is my all-time favourite (especially the sad and longing dance number: _Never Gonna Dance_ ), then _Easter Parade, The Gay Divorcee, The Band Wagon,_ and _The Sky is the Limit_ (which is an odd little piece set during WW2 with some interesting social commentary in there- plus superb dances- gotta see Fred letting loose on top of a bar- with the song _One More for my Baby and One More for the Road_ \- spectacular!). Actually the subtext in many of FA's musical is quite fascinating (whether it was intended or not at the time- I do not know) - sexual tension; gender role disruptions and the search for equality in relationships (subtle but definitely there- especially with Ginger Rogers); the effete closeted homosexual side-kicks; race relations; the Great Depression and money (although mainly in how it is conveniently ignored and everyone is just living a dreamlike high-life!); interesting references to the motor age and the war machine (if you look closely enough); etc, etc. Some of the dances have it all in there. Of course, FA's well-known tour-de-force routine was actually in a pretty lamentable film called _Blue Skies(1946)_ where Bing Crosby's annoying character inexplicably gets the girl and FA plays second banana to him (Gah!)- go to this Vimeo link /31922652 - it isn't the clearest print ever, but this is where the real magic shines. ENJOY!**

 **Final A/N:I do not mean to disrespect the memories or legacies of the real historical people who end up in my fan fic- especially Mr Fred Astaire- who has strenuously guarded his life story in many ways- his Will actually stipulated that there should be no attempts to render his life in film- a wise move indeed- for who else could qualify to dance as he did, let alone play him? I do, however, hope that the descendants of FA are not offended by these forays of truth into fiction, and that I mean to represent the lives and work of Fred and Adele Astaire (and the Gershwins too, come to think of it) in a very respectful manner.**


	9. Chapter 9- Coming to His Senses: Smell

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 9- Coming to His Senses: Smell**

 **A/N:** **My writing soundtrack ATM: Vivaldi- the Four Seasons Concertos by the London Chamber Orchestra (1989).**

 **CECECECECE**

Charles spends some time running his dreams of how he will attend to Elsie tonight and fulfil his promise to her in their private realm beyond the world of words. However, practicality soon overtakes Charles as he realises that he will need all the energy he can muster if he is going to pull this idea off later tonight. So he leans his head back into the plush headrest of his seat and inhales the alluring warmth of Elsie by his side. As the glazed landscape slips by the carriage window and crisp visions of the morning and his memories buffer home in his mind, Elsie's head weighs soft and heavy on his shoulder and Charles revels in yet another wonderful freedom that his marriage now affords him. Inhaling. Exhaling. Soothed by the expansion and contraction of the life breath of the world. In the drooping of his eyelids, in the slow rise and fall of his chest, in the steady slide into slumber … in the stretching of the sounds around him into sleepy, muffled distance, Charles breathes in… he senses it last-before the fall. He senses it all….

Elsie's perfume. That scent.

Over the years, he has quite unconsciously tried to trace it as he has entered any room she may have been in. An intoxicating fragrance that has found him angling his head towards her own, time without number, as she has stood near him in their rigid masks of duty. Only now, as he inhales, freely, deeply- before sleep claims him completely on this rolling, sliding sensual journey- now, in her provocative closeness, he can finally acknowledge that he has been trying to capture it- that balm. He has tried to etch it onto the back of his palate so that he can attempt to find it somewhere else in nature or distilled somehow into a bottle. Daily, as he has walked through the various divine aromas that waft out of Mrs Patmore's kitchen he has searched for it. Sometimes he has pursued it in the oils in the woodwork, or the polish on the dining table; the ink soaked into blotters, or the striking of a match; the steam from steeping tea leaves, or in the melting of scented wax. As he has adjusted floral arrangements and tested the bouquets of petals and corks and decanters of wine, he has been searching for the notes of it, wanting to find that freshness in more of the world around him. But never yet has he _quite_ found what he has been looking for- that essence, which is less tangible, even, than the way he has imagined the sensual, silken fall of her hair through his fingers. He could never hold onto either of these things.

It is full, though, heady- that essence that seems to seep into the fibres of his mind yet will not be caught. That hint of warm skin- floral and bright and fresh, and with a sensual musky undertone that he never can never place- that seems to flit away from his consciousness like a willow-the-wisp on the moors, such that Charles is never really sure that he has detected it anywhere at all. And recently, how he has begun to wish that he could catch that quintessence of Elsie upon his skin or in the sheets from the linen press when his bed is made up freshly each week. How he has wished it could stay with him and make him feel safe at night. That distillation- the truth of Elsie- that has haunted him in the narrow passageways of the day and through into the edges of his consciousness at night. In vain he has searched for it, tried to place it in the tones and the depths of the finest wines he could access. Forever in vain. Until now.

Now he can flood his mind with this new and piquant pleasure. With Elsie by his side, Charles inhales deeply as his eyes grow heavy, as the train pitches and sways and lulls him. He gives in to the demands of the day. With a final deep, reverent intake of Elsie's sweet and calming incense into his lungs and soul, Charles knows that all of his searching has been senseless, for never could it be found where it did not belong, and that all along, deep down, really, he knew it all along… he knew that all he was trying to capture, all he has ever really wanted to hold onto was just…her.

 **CECECECECE**


	10. Chapter 10- From the Actions of Angels

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 10- From the Actions of Angels**

When they finally reach Kings Cross Station in London, a porter collects their luggage and directs Charles and Elsie Carson to the correct underground platform to take them to the Ritz Hotel. Another porter meets them at Green Park Station and ensures that they, and their luggage, make it safely to the hotel foyer. Charles is sure to tip each porter adequately for their service and then signs the hotel register with great pride and a slight flourish of his wrist _Mr and Mrs Charles Carson_ , _Downton Abbey, Yorkshire_. Elsie, by his side, smiles demurely, and also with quite a note of pride when she sees his elegant and strong script mark their partnership in public for the first time.

Once they are up in their room, Charles also tips the bellboy and moves to Elsie's side, to tuck her hand once more into the crook of his arm. Elsie, for her part, has stopped stock still on the parquetry of the little foyer entrance to their suite – for it was most assuredly a suite and _not_ just a simple hotel room. Elsie's free hand goes to her chest as she holds her breath. Charles looks into the apartment properly for the first time, and then quickly looks back to Elsie's face- for as much as the room's appointments impress him as being as elegant any of the guest rooms at the Abbey, it is Elsie's response to it that holds him enraptured. _Like a little girl on Christmas morning-_ he thinks with a smile. His Elsie- transformed into a pretty young thing with a richness of presents awaiting her under the tree. Such a change he has never seen in her before. It takes his breath away.

And Charles feels that he knows what this transformation is based upon. He knows that Elsie will often stand silently in some of the rooms of the Abbey once all of the housemaids have finished their tasks. Yes, he knows she is often just being her normal, diligent and professional housekeeping self, as she checks the standards of their cleaning and scrubbing, the accuracy of the setting of the counterpanes and pillows. But Charles also knows that she sometimes just stops in the stillness of a room that is finally empty of the bustle of staff or family to take in all of that grandeur and to breathe in the beauty of it all. He often fancies that she thinks the same things he does of the elegant furniture and appointments of so many rooms in the Abbey: how is it that human minds have designed such a space? How is it that other human hands had understood that vision and somehow converted these dreams of beauty into a solid, carved reality that can be lived in? How is it that human hands have crafted such lovely furniture, and crystal, and painted works of art out of nothing more than wood, and sand, and clay. _The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals*_ , indeed!

Yet, Charles has always felt that there is a small knife twist of sadness to Elsie's observations of the rooms at Downton – that in these moments of delight and quiet awe there also stands the spectre of the knowledge that such grandeur and beauty will never be for her. But he does not sense this now. _Thank the Lord_. Now there is unadulterated wonderment on her face and she is kindling with a warm glow of happiness. Elsie turns to Charles and her eyes shout gaily to him _This is all for Me!_ Charles feels laughter bubbling up from deep inside him just at seeing the joy upon her face. He laughs heartily out loud as he grasps her in the biggest, strongest bear hug he can manage, lifting her small frame off the floor as she throws her arms around his neck. Then he spins them around on their miniature foyer dance floor and kisses her soundly on the lips.

"I am ever so glad when you are happy Mrs Carson" he rumbles brightly against the softness of her hair as he slows and finally lowers her to the ground. They giggle like small children in a candy shop and then stand together for a moment longer in one another's arms, just looking around at the opulent rooms of the fully serviced suite that will be their first, albeit brief, home together as husband and wife.

 **CECECECECE**

 ***(Hamlet : Act 2, Scene 2, Line 307)**


	11. Chapter 11- Preparations

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 11- Preparations**

 **A/N:** **I have adapted, slightly, a gorgeous line from** _ **Mrs Dalloway,**_ **By Virginia Woolf later in this chapter. It is marked with an asterisk *.**

 **CECECECE**

Having settled into the room, Charles and Elsie realise that the hour is getting late and they still have an 8pm performance to get to. Without enough time to dine in the hotel restaurant and be waited upon across multiple courses, they decide to have room service send up a light supper for them instead.

They chat amiably about this and that over dinner on the balcony of their room that takes in the glow of the street lights of Piccadilly and overlooks the expanse of Green Park. They are at ease, although at times, Charles senses a slight nervousness in Elsie. He reasons that given the recent and somewhat embarrassing exchanges he has had with Mrs Patmore, Elsie's nerves are to do with the solid spectre of the luxurious king-sized bed they will share later in the evening- together fully for the very first time. Each time he sees her worriedly suck the bottom corner of her lip towards her teeth he reaches for her hand across the table and gently strokes the back of it with his thumb until she looks up from the table top and meets his eyes. And his eyes tell her that there is nothing to fear, that there is only love, and it is gentle and kind and that she will always be safe with him.

They go on eating, stopping every now and then to look out over the new electric street lights and the verdant treetops of Green Park as the light of the day completely fades. They listen to the bustle of people and cars. It is all so different from the dark and secret silence and that encompasses their home at the Abbey. The nights there are only ever lit by the brightness of the stars in a clear sky. In London, the street lights cast their own strange spell over the two residents of the hotel suite. The lights seem to have bedded down the grime and press of the hot London day and they bathe the city and its multitude of unseen, unknown residents of the night in a warm and reverent glow. And high above it all sits Charles and Elsie- looking out on the magic of the remains of their day.

CECECECECE

Afterwards, Charles and Elsie separate, each to their own bathroom and dressing room on either side of the main boudoir to bathe after their eventful morning and day of travel, and before changing back into their evening finery once more.

Charles shaves carefully for the second time that day, which has always been his habit, for it would never do for him to sport a day's worth of stubble whilst tending to dinner at the Abbey. He runs his hand over his cheek to check for any stray whiskers and his palms catch and pull slightly at the still moist and silky smooth but age-thickened skin of his jawline- the sign of a good clean shave. Pleased with his work, Charles then slicks his ever unruly forelock back with some Brilliantine oil and buttons himself into his finest starch fronted evening livery. He has decided to forego the complimentary valet service the hotel offers with this room since dressing for the evening is just a part of who he has been for decades and he needs no special attentions in that regard. _"_ _Same a_ s _it ever was,"_ he thinks to himself.

He is ready before Elsie and feels mostly calm, but also at times- it washes over him in waves- unaccountably different and unsettled as he holds the fine silk top hat Lord Grantham has gifted him. He paces a little and shuffles the hat in his broad hands, fussing to smooth its fabric of non-existent wrinkles in the absence of any silverware to polish to calm his nerves. He circles the stiff brim of the topper around and around in his fingertips as he holds it in front of him at waist height. He waits for Elsie to finish, listening more intently than decorum probably dictates is appropriate, as she releases the plug of the bath and he hears the water run out. A vision runs unbidden through his mind- of Elsie lifting her naked body from the bath, water sliding off her and glistening on her heated, peach-blushed skin as she reaches over for a fluffy white towel- all softness and curves. He feels a hot stirring in his loins and he shakes his head briskly, fumbles more rapidly with the brim of his hat and struggles vainly to maintain his indifferent Butler's mien.

To keep his mind off of what is happening in the next room; Charles goes to the wireless in the corner of the sitting room of their suite and fiddles around with the dials. He listens briefly to the news of the new Princess Elizabeth's christening that morning in the chapel at Buckingham Palace and then settles on a station that is playing some calming waltz music. Charles pours himself a finger of scotch from the drinks tray on the sideboard. He now senses that he will need all the help he can get to calm his raw nerves tonight.

He is anxious about the memories that might assail him when he returns to the theatre tonight, albeit, not to one he ever played in- his meagre talents having never extended to the heights of playing in Leicester Square. He squirms when he thinks of the questions Elsie may ask about the past and of the ribbing she may give him about it. He is also nervous that the Prince of Wales himself may actually attend the show this evening and that they may be obliged to be introduced to him, particularly since Charles has attended to the family at Lady Rose's presentation ball at the Palace three years ago. He hopes ardently that His Royal Highness will not recognise him as a servant. But then, why would he? The Prince would likely never have looked any servant in the eye in all of his life. He would not remember Charles, and he has never clapped eyes on Elsie, that is a certainty. He wonders how he should arrange for them to be announced to the Prince if required. Even after attending many very important, and even famous, people at the tables of Downton, Grantham House and beyond, Charles fears he would not know what to do and say on this occasion. He is especially worried about trying to explain why a butler and a housekeeper are frequenting one of His Majesty's personally booked boxes at the Empire Theatre. He worries for how Elsie will feel about it all- highly uncomfortable, no doubt. No, it will not do. Charles resolves that an announcement of the truth is the only way to proceed, for as much as he is always able to avoid saying too much at the wrong time when serving and managing personnel, he is and always will be a hopeless liar. He will simply introduce themselves as Mr and Mrs Charles Carson, at the behest of Lady Rose Aldridge, currently abroad in the United States. Oh, how he wished that he had some cutlery to polish right now! That always seems to calm him down when he is anxious back at the Abbey. That, and Elsie's steady presence.

 _"Hmm...Funny_ ," Charles thinks to himself- how these musings are so unlike the thoughts he'd had earlier today- where the fleeting impressions and flashes of clear realisation seemed to happen all in the space of a breath. Now Charles feels that the negative thoughts that have been spiralling inside him around the dilemma of how to conduct himself tonight all seem to drag on for an age. He finds himself starting to pace.

CECECECE

As Charles shuffles about in the next room, Elsie dries herself slowly with a pre-warmed towel. _So fluffy and luxurious!_ She has decided to utilise the services of the lady's maid attached to their apartment, as she knows that she will not be able to reset her hair in the new style Anna had so expertly pinned that morning. Besides, she knows that she will also need some help with her new undergarments. She is hoping that a few kind and discreet words from the maid in that direction will help build her confidence about making such a radical change to her wardrobe tonight. Elsie has finally decided that there will be no time like the present to attempt this change, for she hopes that the soft magic that seems to be enveloping Charles and her this evening will weave enough wonder around Charles' eyes to have him forget the flaws she so readily sees in the full-length mirrors of their gilded rooms.

The young lass, Diana, who attends to her is very encouraging and more than a little envious of the lovely garments Mrs Patmore and Anna have gifted Elsie that– they are definitely of high quality- the brassiere is a light creamy blush coloured satin with small lace embellishments and little silk covered button fastenings down the centre back. Elsie has never felt such fine fabrics so close to her skin. That, in and of itself, makes her feel different and strangely confident, so that even without the rigid bones of her corset, Elsie's years of trained posture only add an elegant nuance to the soft lines that these new styles afford her wedding dress. So, despite her misgivings about feeling too exposed, Elsie actually feels proud of her new appearance and finds herself standing even taller.

The work Diana does on her hair is as exquisite as Anna's- a Marcel wave using curling irons- _Quite the style of the moment, to be sure!_ Elsie likes that her long hair is pinned a little more loosely than her customary, functional work braids. She realises that they have made her look older and more severe, now that she has something with which to compare them. The girl even makes some lovely suggestions for Mrs Carson's lip rouge and cheek colour to suit the evening lighting. Elsie would not have known to do any of these things if she were left to her own devices. Thankfully, Elsie's hat from the day still suits the evening's entertainments quite admirably. Miss Baxter had embellished the mauve-tinted straw with a fine rich purple satin band, crepe edgings and soft frangipane styled silk flowers that all tones in beautifully with both her dress and velvet coat. And although all the opulence of their London sojourn would have stifled Elsie and made her feel like a fraud this morning in the presence of everyone she knew had they hosted the breakfast in the great hall at the Abbey, somehow tonight, Elsie feels ready for the theatrics of the evening, both on and off the stage, since she does not really know anyone they might be meeting. Having completed her dressing, Elsie feels refreshed and younger and giddy with excitement all over again for the night ahead.

Elsie thanks the young maid and is sure to tip her generously for her efforts as she dismisses her. With impeccable manners, Diana wishes Mrs Carson a lovely evening and much happiness for the rest of her wedding day. Elsie makes a mental note to tell the Head Housekeeper of the room maids of the girl's excellent work before they leave the hotel in two days' time.

Elsie then picks up the single silver six-penny from the dresser that she had carefully moved from her wedding shoe to her travelling shoes earlier that day. As she goes to place it back into her wedding shoe for this evening's new adventure, she turns it slowly around in her fingertips, watching the soft light glide and glint across its shiny new edges. Two sides of a coin, spinning on edge through life together- Charles and Elsie. Then she smiles fondly as she recalls the letter it came in from Charles, which she had received just last night. Most of it she could probably quote verbatim, for she has read it over that many times! But it is a lengthy piece and Elsie feels a sudden need to check for its existence on this strangest of all days. She had carefully tucked it into her luggage, not wanting to part with it, even for this short trip. Elsie read it over so many times on her wedding eve that she had finally dropped into a relaxed and peaceful slumber, waking with it still neatly folded on top of her counterpane. Never had she received anything so precious and honest in writing from a man before. Elsie cannot stop herself from quickly reading through it again now. She feels sure it is becoming etched upon her heart and that she will remember it forever.

CECECECECE

 _Friday, 28_ _th_ _May, 1926_

 _To My Dearest Elsie,_

 _As you know (indeed, better than anyone I care to think of, after all of these years), I am a stickler for keeping up with the traditions that any grand occasion requires. As such, I do not see that the occasion of our wedding should be any different. And so it is that I have happily discharged my duty as the intended groom to provide you now with all of the particulars of the day that we_ _finally_ _came to an agreement over. I do hope that tomorrow proves to be everything you could desire, for you deserve nothing less._

 _It occurred to me that there is one tradition which cannot be discharged by the people who may otherwise have attended to these particulars due to our dual status as orphans and the fact that our impending nuptials are occurring at this latter stage in our respective lives. To wit, it is my understanding that it is considered good luck for the bride to carry certain items on her person on her wedding day that may bring luck and good fortune to the married couple. Namely, that you are to be gifted with something old -to represent continuity; something new- to represent optimism for the future; something borrowed to denote borrowed happiness; and, something blue- to symbolise purity, love, and fidelity. Plus, a sixpence for your shoe to wish for good fortune and prosperity._

 _Whilst I am sure that Anna, Mrs Patmore, Miss Baxter, and no doubt many others taking care of your needs tomorrow, will happily see that these small items are seen to, I feel the need to break a little from the tradition of these being provided solely by your 'ladies in waiting', so to speak. I do not wish to cause offence or impose upon their good will in giving you the items enclosed with this letter. However, I feel that you have taught me well enough, Mrs Hughes, to know that we must adjust our actions according to the needs of the times we live in. And so, I respectfully ask that you carry these two items from me, along with the equivalents you may be gifted by those ladies closest to you now. I do not think it will be tempting the fates too much to have you carry these extra tokens to symbolise all that I hope and pray for in our future together as man and wife._

 _In the first instance, it had occurred to me that for the 'something old' you need to have on your wedding day, you need look no farther than the man who will be standing proudly at your right hand at the altar tomorrow morning. Alas, I feel this may not quite be what the words of this small wedding tradition intended, nor could I guarantee that my own nervous personage is enough to convince Fortune to favour us with either longevity nor great luck. Instead, I have decided to gift you with two items that I feel represent most adequately all that this quirk of wedding day traditions aims to embody._

 _oOOoOOoOOo_

 _The first item you will find is one of only two mementoes that I have left of my dearly departed mother- the other being her gold wedding band, which I will be honoured to place upon your hand tomorrow. Her ring was found wrapped in the same silk handkerchief enclosed in this letter. It was kept in a drawer of my father's room and was handed to me by members of the estate who cleaned our cottage after his death when I was 12 years old. Even though I was able to stay close to my father and work alongside him as a stable boy from the time of my mothers' death until his own, he never once told me of these things. I think that is because his grief at losing my mother was too great, plus, he was ever a man of few words. I can only guess that he gifted the kerchief to my mother at some point after their marriage. I understand that it may sometimes be a gift a husband gives his wife on the occasion of the birth of their first child. If we suppose this to be the case, it makes this handkerchief at least as old as I am – and thankfully for you, somewhat easier to carry!_

 _I feel very strongly, even though I only knew my mother until I was six years old, that she would have liked you, Elsie, and that she would have been very proud to include you in her family if she had been able to know you in my adult life. From the small amount my child's brain can remember of her, my mother was a strong woman, and not without her moments of fiery intensity. Sometimes when I see the fire flash forth from you, my dearest Elsie, I catch vivid glimpses in my minds-eye of my own mother's strength. And so, it is you who allows me to hold onto the memory of her more clearly. However, perhaps most tellingly in these heightened moments with you, I am reminded of my mother's constancy, for I know that even when I have done wrong, you would no more forsake me than she would have when I erred as a child. For the time that the good lord saw fit to keep my mother in my life, she was always there for me and that is what built the home I was fortunate enough to grow in and be loved in as a child. And it is you alone, Elsie, who has given me that same sense of constancy in my adult life. For I now know, most clearly, that you are the reason I have been able to feel so at home at Downton over all these years._

 _I believe that my mother would have recognised in you a kindred spirit, Elsie, and that she would have given you this treasured item of hers to carry on your wedding day, if only she could have. This small, and now quite delicate, handkerchief is embroidered with her initials 'EC'- Elizabeth Carson- and I somehow feel it more than serendipitous that you shall share these initials with her after tomorrow, and that the threads that link the two of you in my life, through these fine, embroidered letters, matches the colour of your very own lovely, pure and faithful blue eyes._

 _Miss Elspeth Hughes, please do me the honour of accepting this gift of my mother's to represent the aspects of the wedding rite that calls for something old and something blue to be carried by the bride. For, just as it is with my own heart, I know that I could only ever entrust this most humble and fragile of gifts to your very own constant and loving care._

 _oOOoOOoOOo_

 _The second item you will find wrapped in this kerchief, Elsie, is one that I see as encompassing the parts of the wedding rhyme that require you to carry something new and something borrowed, whilst also being the sixpence you will carry in your shoe for luck. You will see that this particular coin has been newly minted this very year, and has never been used in circulation prior to it coming to you._

 _However, I am afraid I am somewhat selfish in my intent with this gift, as it is one that I would like you only to borrow from me for the duration of tomorrow. I hope that you will humour me in this, and see this sixpence as a fair exchange for the ring that I will, of course, freely and gladly give to you tomorrow, even if you should disagree with my particular desires in this matter. I am merely asking to be able to carry the same six-pence you will have with you on our wedding day for the remainder of my time upon this earth. Since men do not get to sport wedding bands as women do, to symbolise the sacred bond and promise we will make to each other tomorrow, I would see this penny as my equivalent._

 _I know you will probably think me rather a sentimental old fool, but I should very much like to carry this coin in my waistcoat pocket every day. To me, this particular six-pence will act as a memento of our special day and a talisman for our continuing good fortune in marriage. In this coin, I will always see the two of us and the journey that got us to this particular point in time. Perhaps, more pointedly, this coin will continue to remind me of all the times we could not make either head nor tail of one another! And I know that I shall then smile at the fact that, despite all of our little disagreements, we are always on each other's side. But most importantly, from tomorrow, this coin will always represent the faith and the hope and the bright and shining love and happiness that I have no doubt will surround us on the day that we will start our newest journey in life together. I hope you will see this as a more than reasonable exchange for the sheer amount of love I have for you, my dearest Elsie, for the promise I will make to you, and for all the happiness that you are, in truth, free to borrow from me at any time from this day forward._

 _oOOoOOoOOo_

 _Oh dear, Elsie! I have just read through my entire letter, and I fear that you will_ _absolutely __think me a sentimental old fool! It seems as if every letter of love I ever wished that I had written to you has been poured into this missive. I ask only that you do not chide me too, too much for my verbosity, and please accept that I may never truly be able to find the right words to tell you exactly what you mean to me._

 _And so, I wish you goodnight, Mrs Hughes. I fear that I shall not sleep much tonight for the thrill of knowing, fully, something that I have in the past and for far too long taken for granted- fool that I am!- Namely, that we are now and will forever more be 'stuck' with one another._

 _Until tomorrow, my sweetest love,_

 _I am, and shall remain,_

 _Ever yours,_

 _Charles._

 _oOOoOOoOOo_

Elsie smiles happily to herself as she rereads every nuance of the letter he has taken such obvious pains to compose for her. It is real. She did not dream it, or any of the rest of this day! _He is here. And... – Oh My Gosh! - He is waiting!_ _I have taken far too long!_

Elsie quickly slips the letter back into a pocket in her travelling case, pops the six-pence into her shoe again, tucks the delicate handkerchief safely into the little inside pocket of her purse and springs lightly towards the door to the inner room of their suite.

Elsie feels a sudden urge to hold her lovely, sweet-hearted man again- for, most certainly, it is true that her Charles is _not_ a complete stranger to romance after all!

CECECECECE

Charles is jolted out of his spiralling thoughts by the faint click of the dressing room door opening on Elsie's side of the suite. He looks up and immediately stops worrying the edge of his top hat as his heart stalls inside his chest.

' _What is this terror? What is this ecstasy? he thinks to himself. What is it that fills me with extraordinary excitement?_

 _It is_ Elsie _, he says._

 _For there she is.' *_

And before he takes his first halting step towards his wife, he wonders briefly _\- How is it that your heart's desire can still be responsible for the stopping of your heart?_ She looks as radiant as she did that morning at the church, but now there is the mystery of the night that seemed to have slipped a fine, sultry and exotic film over her whole being. She has never looked so fine- truly magnificent. And he feels almost that he should kneel down low in supplication at her feet because she has saved him from himself and his loneliness born of his misaligned sense of duty. He wants to feel the silken hem of her dress float across his forehead and his shoulders like the forgiveness from the hands and wings of an angel.

"Milady" he breathes reverently-"you… you are absolutely stunning..."

She smiles serenely at him and sways as she glides towards him. He cannot tell why but she even walks differently in this moment! It is a beguiling mystery to him and a gift all in one, for he knows that he will slowly unwrap her tonight and he prays that she will allow him to reveal all of her mysteries through the touch of flesh on flesh. They meet in the middle of their shared space and he bends his head to lightly kiss the back of her proffered hand.

As he looks up again into her glittering dark eyes he is stopped short by the smiling love he sees in them and he feels that he just has to tell her what he can of all these fleeting notions that have flooded over him today. But how can he possibly put it all into so many words and make her understand? He knows that it is not possible, and in another blinding flash Charles realises that there is only so much that we can ever truly know about another human being. And this makes him feel unaccountably sad- the sense that maybe he may not ever be fully known by her, and in turn, that all he might be able to do is to scratch the surface of her being- grasping helplessly for her essence and trying to hold it gently in his open palms before it disappears like a willow-the-wisp, seeping slick and cold out of his flailing hands. He gazes deep into her eyes and she strokes the side of his face when she sees the sadness flicker in the depths of his dark eyes. And so he tries. He tries to tell her everything because he has given his word and he is a man of honour and integrity- she has told him that herself, and he will abide. He tries to tell her – of the church, the sunshine, the people of the village and what they seemed to represent to him on this day. He tries to tell her that he knows she worries that he has a preference towards always to serve Lady Mary first and foremost- and he desperately wants to reassure Elsie that this really is _not_ so. He needs to tell her that his allegiance is first and foremost, and evermore- to her. And so it truly is- from this day forward- as he edges towards retirement and the call of duty as a butler recedes- it is now that he sways totally towards the hours of his life being dedicated to her and her happiness.

But he is struck dumb, he has not the words to say it all so well.

And then Charles hears himself blurting out "I was wrong, Elsie, I was so very wrong- all those words I had Mrs Patmore relay to you." He sees her face suddenly fall and she is leaning away from him and it is all going horribly, horribly wrong- and so he stumbles forward- he has to make her understand!

"No Elsie, please, please understand me! I should not have said that in my eyes you are beautiful, for you are so much more than that. So very much more. You do not need my eyes to filter the truth through, Elsie, for the truth of it is just that - _you are_. You just… _are_ , don't you see? Elsie- you are _truly beautiful_ to all in this world with heart and eyes enough to see."

 **CECECECE**

 **TBC!**

 **A/N: I felt that Charles' upbringing in the Victorian age would have meant that a letter such as he has written here would be a natural part of this unusual, but ever proper courtship. No doubt Charles would have studied various forms of love letter writing (he is a diligent researcher I feel!), but I hope that what I have imagined shows a little of the spontaneity that would ultimately overtake him as he sat down and actually got into the flow of writing to Elsie about their wedding day. I think it is something that Elsie would understand as important for Charles to do for her too, because of the courtly history and chivalric origins of love letter writing. I hope that I have also captured the nature and the older style of language that such a love letter may have taken – writing is always more formal than the way people speak day to day anyway.**

 **I hope that you have enjoyed this little chapter of soppy romance. :)**


	12. Chapter 12- Reparations

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 12- Reparations**

 **A/N 1:** **The piece of music you might want to listen to here is Johannes Brahms Opus 39. No 15 Waltz in A major for violin and piano.**

 **I hope these links are traceable if you are interested- they do not post properly in here :(**

 **Check youtube channel -** **UschisChannel2** **and the following link watch?v=uSji5Gamq8Q **

**Or there is a version on spotify arranged by David Hochstein and performed by Enescu, Bartok, Syzmanowski et al. (2000) (2:39mins- and probably my favourite).**

 **Or in A flat major on piano performed by Leonard Pennario watch?v=5HtOrJ9Vyco **

**Or this one, in A flat major played by Leopoldo Lipstein - beautiful phrasing and pauses on this one. watch?v=3jjkCmUO_ms **

**They are all equally beautiful but each has nuanced differences. The A major violin versions are probably brighter. The A-Flat major ones are more soulful.**

 **For the true sound that Chelsie might have heard in 1926 on the wireless – go to this Allmusic web page which reviews the complete recordings of Harold Bauer (pianist) and scroll down until you find it. It is the earliest recorded version of this, as far as can tell from some brief digging around on the net. It won't play the whole piece but it gives you a good idea of the sound quality and musical styling of the time. album/harold-bauer-the-complete-recordings-mw0001405307 **

***Choose your favourite one, or look further afield to supply your own brand of Chelsie magic :)**

 **A/N2:** **I am not sure about the quality of this chapter, I know others have done this theme better before me and I have kept this short. Some things are just too hard to describe.**

 **A/N 3:** **Thank you once again for the lovely reviews so far, including all the guesties. CSotA, manygreentrees and olehistorian have been super encouraging in their latest comments, especially. As always, it is unexpected, but extremely gratifying. I am just glad that I can bring some reading pleasure to others out there in Chelsieville. :)**

 **Much love,**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **CECECECECE**

 _But he is struck dumb, he has not the words to say it all so well._

 _And then Charles hears himself blurting out "I was wrong, Elsie, I was so very wrong- all those words I had_ _Mrs_. _Patmore relay to you." He sees her face suddenly fall and she is leaning away from him and it is all going horribly, horribly wrong- and so he stumbles forward- he has to make her understand!_

 _"No Elsie, please, please understand me! I should not have said that in my eyes you are beautiful, for you are so much more than that. So very much more. You do not need my eyes to filter the truth through, Elsie, for the truth of_ it _is just that - you are. You just…are, don't you see? Elsie- you are truly beautiful to all in this world with heart and eyes enough to see."_

CECECECECE

As Charles stops what he sees as his blundering and incoherent speech and Elsie struggles to believe the words she has heard falling from his lips once more. The music from the wireless seems fuller than before and it fills the gaps of their strained silence. Charles bends his head and gazes nervously at Elsie with morose but hopeful eyes.

"Dance with me, Milady." He somehow makes it sound like a plea and a demand all at the same time as all of his conflicting fears and desires clash inside his voice. He still holds her fingers gently in his large left hand from when he had bent to reverently brush his lips against them. He slowly adjusts his grip on them and moves them into the correct position to begin a waltz. Tentatively, he slides his right arm around to her lower back, lightly feathering her dress but not pressing her until she grants him permission.

Elsie, for her part, is still a little dazed- her mind and heart whirling between sensation and perception- from the giddiness of re-reading his letter with her heart skipping to be near him once again, and then the sudden terror she felt in that slicing moment when she thought he was going to take back all of those words he had said through Mrs Patmore- the ones on which she had been building up her tenuous confidence. She is speechless again from what he has said- from his precious bumbling through to how he, once more, pulled poetry from the air and went far beyond what she has ever expected of any man. _Dance with me, milady._ The words swirl heavy in the air around them and like a stunned automaton she observes her left-hand move in slow motion from his cheek to rest upon his right shoulder. She sees the soft light of the wall lamps shimmer across her wedding band and it revives her. Her eyes lock onto his and her fingers slide further around him and press lightly through his top coat. She feels his fingers finally come to rest in a broad span across her lower back.

Charles breathes a sigh of relief as he feels her hand press into place on his shoulder and her eyes signal her assent. But his breath is caught short in the next instant when he smooths his fingers against her lower back and feels a most unexpected softness through the silk of her dress and perceives a captivating suppleness in her movements.

They begin. He does not need to lead the dance- they fall into a mutual advance and retreat, gliding in a smooth rise and fall, circling around one another in precise accord. It is so very different from their dance this morning. No barriers or outside glances cut between them now. It is just them- in that moment.

Somehow Charles prevents his jaw from slackening in shock at the new development in her wardrobe, and instinctively he draws Elsie further into his embrace and does not hide his want for her when he stares back into her mesmeric eyes, for Charles is certain, beyond anything else in this world, that he could not possibly give up these newly found joys.

And to be sure, no one has ever asked Elsie to dance _quite_ like this before- where no particular occasion or tradition dictates the need, where she is not just one more partner on a list of required reels at a village dance or the lesser part of the opening couple at the servants' ball. Even their bridal waltz had been a requirement of the occasion, albeit quite a lovely one. No, no-one has ever asked Elsie to dance purely for the reason that they want to be with her alone, in that moment- to demonstrate something to her, to share something with her that can only occur in that space between thought and feeling- where words are superfluous.

The music seems to fade into the background and they dance only to the tune of one another, their movements fuelled by the beating of their hearts against their chests and the silent, shared warmth of their bodies which grows like a halo around them.

As they slowly glide into stillness at the end of the piece playing on the wireless, the final swirl of Elsie's skirt sweeps itself around the Charles' calves before gently, silently, settling back into place around her stockinged legs, signaling their return to the here and now. In unison they lightly closed their eyes, lean in and press their lips together, holding the memory and truth of their moment of perfect love between them with infinite tenderness.

 **CECECECECE**


	13. Chapter 13- All of These Words

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 13- All of These Words**

 _The music seems to fade into the background and they dance only to the tune of one another, their movements fuelled by the beating of their hearts against their chests and the silent, shared warmth of their bodies which grows like a halo around them._

 _As they slowly glide into stillness at the end of the piece playing on the wireless, the final swirl of Elsie's skirt sweeps itself around the Charles' calves before gently, silently, settling back into place around her stockinged legs, signaling their return to the here and now. In unison they lightly closed their eyes, lean in and press their lips together, holding the memory and truth of their moment of perfect love between them with infinite tenderness._

 **CECECECECE**

Charles still holds Elsie's hand in his as it rests close to his chest in the small space between them. His fingertips run lightly up the back of her own and then he moves his thumb around and intimately presses firm, longing circles into her palm. His head bows to her slightly and he looks intently into her eyes as his voice, husky and halting with nervous need, rolls quietly across her cheek.

"I had rather thought I might have bungled everything and offended you just then" and he looks at her a little sheepishly from under his questioning brow.

He looked so uncertain still, even after that dance of perfect accord and Elsie cannot really fathom why. She is so close to him she can feel the thrumming of air from the bottom of his chest as he speaks, and along with the heat building in her hand as he traces over the bumps and dips of her palm, she feels a long shiver run around her ribs and chest.

"Mr Carson," she replies, "once more, I can assure you that you have not offended me. Surely you must have some inkling as to what your words mean to me… what they do to me when I hear you speak so truly?" His eyes soften lovingly, and with quite some relief, as he holds her faithful gaze. "I had only just finished re-reading your letter from yesterday in my dressing room, and it was because of those words that I rushed to be near you again."

"Do you mean you brought it here with you?" he asks, looking decidedly embarrassed now as he thinks of how florid he feels his writing was. He has now had enough distance of time to build up some real misgivings about what he had previously imagined would actually be appropriate when he wrote it. He feels the heat rising up his neck and turning his ears red.

"Of _course_ I did, Mr Carson"

"And... you did not find it …too… ridiculous?" he asks nervously, still looking to her for approval with his doleful eyes.

"Of course not!" she replies strongly, and then softer, "Believe me, Mr Carson, when I tell you that any man who can use the word 'verbosity' in a love letter and still manage to melt his lady's heart, should have very few qualms _indeed_ about his way with words!" Her eyes twinkle mischievously as she gently ribs him, but her overwhelming love for him shines brighter as she looks up at him. She turns serious then and holds his gaze intently so that he could see the truth of her next admission. "I could _never_ part with it, Mr Carson." She whispers low, her accent thick and her voice choked with emotion. "I shall cherish it and everything that came with that letter for as long as I live. I love you, Charles Carson."

It is the first time she has actually said the words out aloud to him. He feels hot tears rise from his heart to his eyes yet again, stinging the back of his nose. _Can I not control these things anymore?_ Charles chastises himself internally. He grasps her hand even tighter and turns it to place a hot kiss onto her palm, trying to hide his eyes from her gaze, but the stinging salt water drips warm onto her fingertips and she lovingly wiped them against the others that slowly fall across his smooth cheek. He looks to her again, finally safe enough in her embrace to be completely vulnerable, and with a dry and constricted throat, with no person or paper or pen to act as an intermediary, he tells her, "I love you, too, Elsie Carson. Always."

 **CECECECECE**


	14. Chapter 14- Stepping Out

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 14- Stepping Out .**

 **A/N 1:** **Thanks again for all the lovely reviews. I am getting through more of this fiction than I anticipated because of them. The spectre of uni research still looms, although it has been held up a little at the moment. I do hope to get a couple more chapters out before I have to slip back into that mindset fully for a few months.**

 **A/N 2:** **And OMG! The internet rocks! I was researching around for this chapter I came across this recording of excerpts from the show recorded by members of the Broadway cast of** _ **Lady Be Good!**_ **from 1924. Some beautiful person went to the effort of uploading from an LP (one David Hertzberg, actually- Thank you!). Load these links into your search engine so you can get the real feel of the musical I have Charles and Elsie going to. Happy times!**

 **PT 1- watch?v=myw0TiKkPIw **

**PT 2- watch?v=Fsw4QdxTmJc **

**This LP was only released in 1977, so many of the shows standards were actually released and introduced to radio audiences in the 20s by Fred and Adele Astaire from some April 1926 London studio recordings-**

 ***See- wiki/List_of_songs_introduced_by_Fred_Astaire**

 **Again, if you listen to the show uploads at the top, you will notice that Fred and Adele did not actually sing many of the most famous pieces on stage due to their brother/sister roles in the play. Instead, other characters in the play took them on.**

 ***Here are a couple of links to AA and FA recordings- with George Gershwin actually on piano with them.**

 _ **Fascinatin' Rhythm**_ **- watch?v=6BTM07B0U64 **

_**Hang onto Me**_ **- watch?v=DrEvD5Rty9Y **

_**I'd Rather Charleston**_ **- watch?v=WY2RkGT5-qo **

_**The You Don't Know the Half of it Dearie Blues-**_ **watch?v=-t9ak-8Gtfk**

 ***I** _ **looove**_ **this last one – with Gershwin riffing with Astaire as he tap dances. Rare stuff. Super talented legends making art and having fun together.**

 ***This is a great blog post about the stage show by Jackson Upperco- /2014/02/24/the-best-of-broadways-roaring-twenties-iv/ **

***Other historical notes will be at the bottom of this if you are interested in following the links- things like where I worked out the basic theatre description, the** _ **Lady Be Good!**_ **program info, and visuals from the London run, etc.**

 **A/N 3:** **As one of my guest reviewers mentioned, Chelsie may actually be pushing it to make it to the show on time- what with all their other distractions! But it is also true that I am playing a bit loose and slippy with time schedules throughout this piece of fiction! No worse than JF at times, I maintain. Sorry, cannot be helped!**

 **Disclaimer:** **JF may have created them and own them, but he let them loose on the world, and they live with us for the time that we choose to hold them close. I try to be careful with them JF. My thanks to you. :)**

 **Anyway,** _ **On with the Show!**_

 **CECECECECE**

 _She turns serious then and holds his gaze intently so that he could see the truth of her next admission. "I could never part with it, Mr Carson." She whispers low, her accent thick and her voice choked with emotion. "I shall cherish it and everything that came with that letter for as long as I live. I love you, Charles Carson."_

 _It is the first time she has said the words out aloud to him. He feels hot tears rise from his heart to his eyes yet again, stinging the back of his nose._ Can I not control these things anymore? _Charles chastises himself internally. He grasps her hand even tighter and turns it to place a hot kiss onto her palm, trying to hide his eyes from her gaze, but the stinging salt water drips warm onto her fingertips, and she lovingly wipes them against the others that slowly fall across his smooth cheek. He looks to her again, finally safe enough in her embrace to be completely vulnerable, and with a dry and constricted throat, with no person or paper or pen to act as an intermediary, he tells her, "I love you, too, Elsie Carson. Always."_

 **CECECECECE**

Reluctantly, Charles and Elsie part from their long embrace on their impromptu dance floor, and, ever the gentleman butler, Charles turns to retrieve Elsie's hat, gloves, and coat ready for their evening out. Charles still feels the soft warmth of Elsie on his hands, and he keeps his loving gaze upon her from his position behind her at their room's foyer mirror. She carefully places her hat over the new hairstyle that frames her face most becomingly. It seems a sacrilege of sorts to him, at that moment- to cover it up. It looks so soft and shines with a deep lustre, and even the fine streaks of silver he knows are there just seem to catch the evening light and bounce in beautiful starry contrast to her natural dark auburn locks.

He is enthralled by her slender, strong fingers pulling on her elbow-length gloves- nimble and delicate, and now wrapped tightly in satin. Using her opposing fingertips, she takes her time to slide and batten the fingers of each glove down to rest flush with the soft webbing of her hands. His eyes narrow at the sight of it and his tongue, quite unconsciously, runs slowly across the length of his lower lip. Elsie sees this from the corner of her eye and holds his darkened gaze in the mirror with a playful smile twitching at one corner of her mouth.

Charles holds up her coat to help her into it, being careful, as he would be with any member of or visitor to the great household, not to touch her as he does so, and this is despite their recent tactile intimacies. Charles knows this action marks the beginning the great mental preparations he will undertake this evening in readiness for tonight- in readiness for what he hopes to be able to give to Elsie once they return, and for how he plans to make sure she can feel free and comfortable sharing everything of herself with him too.

Elsie looks up at him in the mirror as he checks the time on his pocket watch and then adjusts his tie a final time, smooths his ever recalcitrant forelock well back, pulls on his own pristine white evening gloves and places his top hat on. He grumphs a little at it and tries to angle it 'just so'. Elsie turns to help him, adjusting the hat to what she sees as a rather rakish setting. So, despite all the starch and studied formality of their attire, the scene in the mirror appears as one of familiar and comfortable domesticity. _He looks so incredibly tall! And ever so handsome,_ Elsie smiles to herself, once she is content with her work.

Charles offers her his arm with a slight bow of his head and with a small flourish he opens their apartment door and ushers her through it with a quiet "Milady". The hotel's floor butler helps Mr Carson with a fresh white carnation boutonnière for his lapel, and then the elegant couple makes their way down to the hotel foyer and the street below.

CECECECECE

At first, it seems silly to be riding in a carriage when so many motor taxis are available in the city now, but the ride in the single horse-drawn hansom cab up Piccadilly is jaunty and brings unexpected pleasures to both occupants of the cab. Elsie smiles broadly at the thought the Grantham's have put into every aspect of their evening. In truth, being in an older form of transport seems quite fitting to Elsie, as they would surely have travelled from their wedding reception in this manner in earlier days, had their lives gone a different way. There remains a certain romantic charm to this mode of transport and Elsie lets herself be drawn into it entirely.

It is not a fast ride, as the horse and trap have to negotiate and wait for an awful lot of motor traffic on their way up Piccadilly. What Elsie had not anticipated, and it sends thrilling ripples of nervous energy around her torso, is the way that her body moves freely with the bounce of the carriage, especially now that she has changed to wearing more liberating undergarments. She is glad of the gloom in the cabin, for she knows that her cheeks are blushing furiously at these new and forbidden sensations- and never more so than when she senses Charles eyes drawn down to her rhythmically heaving bosom and he draws a sharp breath in through his teeth. Then, once he can take no more of the sight, he turns his head to look at the night street rolling by and draws in deep clear draughts of the cool night air. It is then that Elsie sneaks a furtive look at him and a gratified smile graces her lips as she realises the effect she really can have upon him. Then she turns to the front again, anticipating, but also willing him to drag his eyes back to her chest once more so that she can feel the thrill of his desire-filled gaze on her from the corner of her eyes. They play this little clandestine game until they reach the chaos of Piccadilly Circus, where Charles feels he can take no more of it and still have any hopes of maintaining any bodily decorum, for the carriage jostles him in a most distracting manner also. His only recourse is to talk about something completely away from the subject that bores into his mind and body when he looks at Elsie moving so freely beside him.

"You…you know they have moved the Shaftesbury Monument to the Victoria Embankment Gardens while they dig the underground rail at Charing Cross," he stutters out, somewhat inanely.

Elsie hears the slight squeak to his roughened voice as he starts the conversation and she takes some pity on him, realising he needs a distraction from the heady atmosphere that has developed between them- and on more than just a mental level.

"I had realised it was gone during the 1923 season I spent here with you, but I never had the time to find out where it had been shifted to,' she replies, and quite merciful it is to Charles' ears.

"Perhaps we could go to see it before we leave," he mused. "I have always liked it. It has a very interesting history, and I am sure the garden setting would almost suit it better than being stuck in the middle of such a busy thoroughfare... Hmmm... But you are right; it certainly _was_ a hectic time for Lady Rose's presentation, wasn't it? But most enjoyable too, especially the trip to the beach you pushed me towards in a _less_ than surreptitious manner, Elsie!" He smiles towards her as he thinks back to it. He wonders gleefully as to what witty comeback she will shoot his way now, willing her to mentally spar with him a little.

"Yes! Well, my attempts at subtlety did seem to be falling on deaf ears, _once again!_ But as I said to you then, 'we got there in the end', didn't we Mr Carson?"

"Yes, we did, didn't we? And I thank you every day for pointing me in the right direction, for I would not be here with you now if that day did not happen as it did, I know that now. And I find that I am looking forward to our stay at the seaside again after this short 'London season' of ours."

"As am I, Mr Carson, as am I. But, you know, I do feel a little bit guilty that we did not get to do at least one of the activities you obviously like to do in your free time in London. I should very much like to share something like that with you, and so I will strike you a deal _if_ you please."

"I could be open to that Mrs Carson. Enlighten me."

"Well, I never get to London much, as you know, and I have been to the National Gallery once, but not the newer Gallery at Millbank. Will you take me tomorrow afternoon? And if we plan it well, we could still make it the Victoria Embankment to see that lovely sculpture of yours before nightfall. You can tell me all about it before we return for dinner in the Ritz restaurant, which I know that you are dying to try, even if it is just to see if the sommelier makes the correct wine choices for the meal! Hmm," she hums happily about her sudden inspiration for a shared expedition, "I do find I am very much enjoying our short time living freely in these grand surroundings, do you not agree, Mr Carson?"

"Well, yes, I am very much enjoying it, but I do put that mostly down to the company I am graced with on this particular sojourn."

"Flatterer," Elsie smiles sweetly at him.

Charles twitches a small smile at her and then furrows his brow a little and goes on, "But, would you _really_ find a day at the Tate Gallery an enjoyable outing, Mrs Carson?" Charles replies, somewhat incredulously.

"Indeed, I would, Mr Carson, very much," her brogue rolling thickly now. "And why, pray tell, are you so surprised? Hmm?" rhetorically quirking an eyebrow his way. "I would have happily gone there with you three years ago, but the younger staff needed an unstructured day to let their hair down a bit. They were too wound up from the lack of freedom that attending to others' pleasures all the time brings about. Of course, I _am_ very glad that you ended up enjoying that day too, for I know that I did- immensely." She smiles as she remembers it- that lovely full-mouthed smile that Charles saw that day on the beach and that he loves so much. "And thankfully, we will have time enough to relax on the seaside again in the next few days. But for now, I really do _want_ to go to that gallery with you," she leans back in her seat and looks forward at nothing in particular. Dreamily, she continues "to see all your favourite artworks and hear your thoughts about them." She turns back to him brightly, "plus, I know tonight is not your first choice in entertainments to partake of in London, so I feel that this might balance the ledger a little, so to speak. _So_ , now then, Mr Carson, do we, or do we not, have an _arrangement_?" Elsie cocks an eyebrow at him, and Charles ripples again with delight, his fingers fluttering lightly against his thigh. He loves the fact that Elsie would actually like doing the things he enjoys, and that she would choose to spend her time with him going to these places.

"Well, you have to admit, this time you _did_ sound somewhat risqué, Mrs Carson! But yes, we do indeed _have an arrangement_ for tomorrow," he smiles happily, "I would very much like to show you some of _my_ London. _And_ I think we should treat ourselves to the early sitting of high tea in the Palm Court of the Hotel, too. I understand it is a quite lofty affair and can be a substantial enough meal to tide us over lunchtime and well into the afternoon. Will that be amenable to your plans, Milady?"

"' _Milady'_ again you say, Mr Carson?" Elsie raises a quizzical eyebrow at him. "Well if I did not know you any better, Mr Carson, I would think that you had arranged this type of outing with a lady-friend on more than one occasion!" She mercilessly ribs him, and Charles grins happily at her playfulness as she continues, "but I do find that I cannot say no to any of it. I shall be delighted, to spend the day with you in this manner, Mr Carson."

Charles is very pleased to have a structured plan to attend to tomorrow that they have worked out and agreed upon together. It promises to be a lovely weekend where each of them can enjoy the things they like, differently, and through the eyes of their beloved at their side.

Charles has been so happily enraptured with his wife and their playful exchange that he has not only managed to calm his overtly physical reactions to the ride and Elsie's voluptuous proximity, but he has also completely lost track of where they are on their journey. The cabby taps his solid whip end on the top of the cab and lifts the portal at the top of the carriage to announce their arrival through a veritable crush of people on Leicester Square at the outside of the Empire Theatre. Charles hands the fair up through the small trap door, calls a _Thank you, Sir_ and alights from the cab with a spring in his step. With a flourish, he places his top hat back on his head and turns lightly on his heels to assist his lady down the steps of their carriage.

CECECECECE

The Empire Theatre proves to be aptly named, for it does indeed personify the grandeur of the British Empire at the height of its expansion in the Victorian age. The entrance hall is all gilt-edged, dome-roofed and ornately pillared. It sports an elegant, broad and lushly red carpeted staircase up to the main foyer and the very wide promenade behind the Dress Circle and Private Boxes. Here, all the fashionable people stroll like peacocks, displaying their finery to one another. It is, of course, the place to see and be seen in, and, apart from the fashions, the intentions of those promenading have probably not changed since the time the theatre was built over forty years ago. Charles and Elsie meander through the crowds and silently take it all in, nodding polite greetings at unknown people if, indeed, they are being acknowledged at all. The house is positively teeming with people, the show being the most popular and talked about in town, and this is a Saturday night performance only four weeks into its run- it is _the_ place to be in London at the moment. The atmosphere is electric and light-hearted and decidedly _young._

Soon Charles angles his head towards the backs of the private boxes and Elsie nods an assent to find their place. Given the lack of a need to be seen courting favour from anyone, they have silently agreed that some seclusion from the masses is in order. For two people who have lived quietly at Downton with only a couple of dozen or so people around them day to day, and even less now that there have been so many staff reductions, it is all a little overwhelming for them to be in an enclosed space with so many people all at once.

Charles approaches an usher and hands over the invitation to one of the Prince of Wales' privately booked boxes. The young man sees them through the door, assures them that they are the only two occupants, and he offers to bring Charles a wine menu. This is an unexpected boon, for now, Charles will not have to face the crowds at the saloon under the vestibule area near the stalls level to buy them some refreshments. Charles pulls a seat back for Elsie, and they settle into another of their little 'private spaces in public' for that day.

The walls of the box are clad in a soft, gold-blushed leather, and the velvet curtains that could close the whole box off to the sight of others are a dark imperial red. With the outside sounds of the promenade currently subdued, the effect is one of seclusion, secrecy and warmth. They looked out over the huge auditorium that is steadily filling with people, and they are pleased to see that their box has an uninterrupted view of the stage. In fact, it is just to the left of the centre, dress circle bench seats and it is the furthest apartment from the Royal boxes, which are right around at the front edges of the stage. Charles explains that the Royal boxes are not the best viewing seats in the house at all. They are designed so that important people can see and be seen by the admiring audience, and especially other members of the aristocracy.

"Well, that is a pretty daft approach to seeing a play in the scheme of things isn't it!" Elsie comments wryly.

Elsie is not unaware of this fact, for she has certainly not been living in a sack all her life! However, she listens attentively to Charles as she wants him to feel comfortable about being back in a theatre again. She has made a pact with herself not to dig too deeply into his days on the Halls and to let him offer only what he wants to, if and when he is ready. For, really, what does it all matter to them now?

Charles smiles and peruses the refreshment list he has been handed. He asks Elsie for her preference, and luckily she concurs with Charles that they cannot go wrong with a Margeaux, and some chilled water, for no doubt the whole auditorium will get quite warm with the heave of bodies in it across the night.

CECECECECE

There is an excited murmur that ripples through the crowd and everyone in the house stands as the Prince of Wales and his brother, Prince George, and other assorted dignitaries, take their places in the royal boxes. The Prince signals for the house to be seated with merely a slight smile and flippant gesture from his hand.

As the house lights drop and the audience settles, Charles and Elsie crane forward to take in the spectacle of the masses. They smile at each other with not some small wonder at the fact that they are even here tonight. _It is all rather exciting!_

The show starts, not with a rousing overture and ensemble number, but rather with a simple song of Fred and Adele Astaire as a brother and sister team down on their luck. They immediately have the crowd on their side. They are innocent, quirky and delightful. At the end of their first song and dance number the crowd is in raptures. The noise is quite deafening, for the Astaire's dance together with humour and astounding fluidity, and certainly with a skill that far surpasses anything Charles had hoped to achieve in his days treading the boards of various bawdy theatre halls.

Charles finds the music of the first act surprisingly catchy, and at times quite lovely, such as the love duet between Adele Astaire's character and her love interest in the play. However, the narrative is rather nonsensical and far-fetched, with some characters seemingly appearing just to introduce another jaunty tune to the show. Charles reasons that it must be the nature of these new musical comedies and he gives up trying to make much sense of their silly misunderstandings in love and courtship. He is sure Elsie finds it all a bit ridiculous too, much like their dealings with the likes of their young kitchen maids and footmen at the Abbey! But Elsie is smiling broadly at all the antics onstage and is obviously enjoying the whole atmosphere of bright young revelry.

Charles, however, finds his gaze, more often than not, trained on Elsie's face enveloped in the soft dusky gloom of their theatre box. Except, of course, for when the Astaires are flitting about with their light-footed and graceful escapades. The pair certainly is hard to look away from, and their skills are prodigious. Adele, in particular, has a natural and sparkling stage presence that commands attention, and Fred, in stark contrast, has a fascinating restrained quality that seems to manifest in an innate sense of style and grace. But, for Charles, the sight of Elsie having fun and smiling so happily delights him far more than those on stage ever could, and he relishes being able to study her in such a private and unguarded manner.

During the intermission, apart from Charles escorting Elsie on his arm through the throngs of people to the powder rooms, the two decide to remain sequestered in their box seats. He takes the time to pour their wine and marvels a little at the way this regularly shared ritual of theirs from inside his simple pantry room at the Abbey has been transplanted to such lush surroundings. As the overture and ensemble number for the second act starts, Charles finds he cannot take his eyes off Elsie as she sips her wine. The show so enthrals her that he feels sure she has not noticed where his gaze is so unashamedly directed.

Elsie, in fact, is quite aware of his attentions, but she will not let on to Charles that the very fact that she can direct his intent gaze to her alone is a large part of her joy about this night's proceedings. Charles has seemed determined to maintain a respectable physical distance from her since they left the hotel, which she is perplexed by, giving that they have perhaps exchanged more tender physical affections today than in all their years together, and most certainly more than they have allowed themselves in the months of their engagement. Elsie finds it decidedly maddening! She cannot tell what he was about, suddenly returning to his stuffy butler reticence to display a closer regard for her in public. Elsie desperately wants to have his hand in hers, in much the same way they did on the train and at dinner earlier and she is not quite sure why he desists at the moment, for it will be well hidden from prying eyes while in their current location. Still, it strangely adds to the pattering excitement she feels in her veins. She knows she cannot attribute these delightful sensations purely to the effects of the wine or the exciting atmosphere of the whole theatre. The anticipation of his touch and the restraint required of her to avoid reaching towards him herself sends a frisson of electricity driving through her spine and belly at regular intervals, sometimes making her shuffle slightly in her seat and giggle lightly. Thankfully, she contains this to the times that it could be seen to be driven by the action of the play's nonsense. She feels sure that Charles is playing at some sort of restrained flirtation with her, perhaps akin to the messages suitors may have used from the days of yore. _Perhaps I should hide my face behind a fan_ she thinks to herself, trying to suppress yet another smirk of lustful joy. She cannot really tell where he is going with all of this, but after their flirtations in the carriage, she decides to enjoy the process and follows his lead of minimising their physical contact. And so it is that at those times when she can barely suppress her mirth at the sensations that flood through her, she lowers her gaze a little and surreptitiously looks sideways at him and tries to fathom his motivations for not touching her beyond the standard amount required of a gentleman escorting a lady in public. She is sure her longing for him is ill-disguised in these moments, but she cannot find it in herself to really care. It is all an intoxicating mystery to her.

As Elsie sips her wine again, she sees a slight movement from Charles out of the corner of her eye that she is sure is the tip of his tongue running languorously across his bottom lip as he keenly observes her. Elsie smiles the smallest of smiles into her tilted glass and keeps her eyes drilled to the action on the stage. However, as she lowers the glass, she makes sure to delicately lick a small drop of wine from her own lower lip which she has purposely allowed to pool there. She is rewarded with the distinct sound of Charles drawing in a quiet and short but shuddering breath.

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N:** I hope I didn't get too descriptive and boring in this Chapter. It held me up quite a bit. Hopefully, I have managed to get a shot or two of that _Ol' Chelsie Charm_ in there anyway!

 **A/N:** Another interesting thing to keep in mind for my fic: **Carnations** in general, symbolise Fascination and Woman's Love. I think Charles and Elsie would both have been likely to know the symbolic significance of many flowers, and white carnations, in particular, symbolise pure love and good luck, plus, they were a common boutonniere for men at that time.

 **Next up:** Charles goes all sensory on us again…

 **CECECECECE**

 **Further Historical web links** if you are interested- I have enjoyed researching this era and trying to make my plot and setting decisions as accurate to the times as I can. I do tend to go on though, so feel free to skip all this if it is not your bag!

 **The Empire Theatre** \- Leicester Square. Opened in 1884.

This page about the theatres history is from some very lengthy, Victorian newspaper descriptions about the architecture and fit out. I tried to summarise it in my piece, but I did have some trouble visualising the actual floor plan/ layout from these pieces. It was quite confusing, so I just ended up just giving it a bit of a stab! This link also includes illustrations of what the theatre looked like. It seems weird that such an opulent building was demolished after only 43 years or so. I wonder what happened to all the fittings?… _as you do_ …(well… I do anyway!).

 **Empire Theatre seating plan visual-** I actually have no idea if there would have been only two people in any private box, but hey – it's Chelsie- they deserve it! .

 **Link to a picture of the Empire with the Astaires names up in lights**

This is how huge it was- a crush of people. From what I can gather the theatre could seat 3000-3500 people- although many would have been in standing room only still.  .in/detail/news-photo/crowds-outside-the-empire-theatre-london-where-fred-and-news-photo/3308492

From what I have read, theatre and variety halls audience from the 1870s, when Carson was supposedly on the stage, would have been an unruly bunch- mostly standing room only- very hot and smelly auditoriums, high fire risks with gas lamps all about, and very low on basic amenities (loos!). Theatres like the Empire would have been some of the earliest ones to provide better facilities and also enforce more of a dress code, and being stricter about prostitutes plying their trade from within the house. By the late 1800s Theatres were trying to clean up the clientele and make a night out at the theatre a familiar, regular and higher class social event.

 **The programme cover for** _ **Lady Be Good!**_ **at the Empire**

. /url?sa=i &rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=imgres&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiisIy7kZ_PAhVIj5QKHbQxBnQQjRwIBw&url=http%3A%2F% % &psig=AFQjCNFrJ_IadEL5SSgxbOkpEpEuRqXJgA&ust=1474501818271175

 **General info and Acts and Song list for** _ **Lady Be Good!**_

wiki/Lady,_Be_Good_(musical)

 **Some stills of Fred and Adele from the show**

. /url?sa=i &rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=imgres&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjPzOjhk5_PAhWBNZQKHWwyDpcQjRwIBw&url=http%3A%2F% .org%2F2016%2F03%2F18%2Frap-broadways-new-jazz%2F&psig=AFQjCNGjKam29yithW2HvvooZrjGQ4R25A&ust=1474501830014989

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. /url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=imgres&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjTitG8kZ_PAhVCjZQKHZurCUIQjRwIBw&url=https%3A%2F% .com%2Fpin%2F516788125966444457%2F&psig=AFQjCNGfC6BzuBzjckxjV1h8FS2-HUE3Yw&ust=1474501822121819

. /url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=imgres&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=&url=http%3A%2F% .com%2Fnew-york-city-theater%2Fnews%2F06-2014%2F2015-new-york-city-center-encores-season-announced_ &psig=AFQjCNGjKam29yithW2HvvooZrjGQ4R25A&ust=1474501830014989

. /url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=imgres&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=&url=http%3A%2F% .org%2Fwnet%2Fbroadway%2Ftimelines%2F1920-1932%2F&psig=AFQjCNGjKam29yithW2HvvooZrjGQ4R25A&ust=1474501830014989

 **Interesting few pics compiled in in a newspaper article to show what life was like in 1920s London- esp. the Royal family photo from QE2's Christening on 29** **th** **May.**

So, did DA do it right?

 **Re. The Sunday honeymoon adventures for Chelsie \- the National Gallery of British Art** wiki/Tate_Britain (known commonly from its early days as the _Tate Gallery_ and officially renamed that in 1932. It has been the _Tate British_ since 2000). I have my reasons for this choice, even though the original gallery on Trafalgar Square would have been a more convenient location than Millbank for their Sunday outing. I am assuming these galleries had similar opening hours to what they are today, even though all good Brits were probably in church on Sundays in the 1920s!

The Tate was built to expand upon the original **National Gallery** which had been under a lot of fire for being poorly designed, amongst many other complaints.  wiki/National_Gallery

 **Just Gotta Plug this now - one of my all-time favourite albums:**

 **The Norman Ganz Sessions- Fred Astaire and the Oscar Petersen Trio: The Astaire Story.** This is my all-time favourite Astaire recording. It is from 1953 and his voice has mellowed beautifully with age. He was renowned for his precise and instinctive timing, and beautiful phrasing- even though he did not have the richness and strength in his voice that say- Bing Crosby or Frank Sinatra or other contemporaries had in these swing/jazz genres. This album was just thrown out in a couple of days by these amazing artists- often first takes only. This is Fred Astaire going into smooth jazz with the Oscar Petersen Trio. Just beautiful- quite different takes on these standards he originally introduced to the world through his 1920s stage work and the 1930s-40s movie musicals. _Very_ smooooth, often sexy, but happy and fun too. The only dodgy track I really do not like is – _I've Got My Eyes On You-_ Too obsessive and creepy for my liking! You will need to buy this one to get it as I have not found it streamed anywhere- but it is worth every cent. There is a load of truly great Oscar Petersen stuff on Spotify- so track it down- just not this whole album though. Actually, when I went back to Google Play to source the link for the copy I bought it had a slightly different album- less tracks- some of the trios jam sessions and ad-libs are missing so it would be best to go to amazon or fishpond or the like. . /c/Music/a/Fred+Astaire

I hope you don't all mind me rabbiting on about these things- I just want to share the love :)

 **A/N:** I know wikipedia is not the most reliable source of info in the world, but for general stuff like the dates and names of stuff like the galleries, it is still a fairly accurate and easy first stop.

 **Now-** Onto our Charlie boy and his musings on taste…


	15. Chapter 15- Coming to His Senses: Taste

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 15- Coming to His Senses: Taste**

 _As Elsie sips her wine again, she sees a slight movement from Charles out of the corner of her eye that she is sure is the tip of his tongue running languorously across his bottom lip as he observes her keenly. Elsie smiles the smallest of smiles into her tilted glass and keeps her eyes drilled to the action on the stage. As she lowers the glass, though, she makes sure to delicately lick a small drop of wine from her own lower lip that she has purposely allowed to pool there. She is rewarded with the distinct sound of Charles drawing in a quiet and short but shuddering breath._

 **CECECECECE**

Charles' eyes close at the sight of Elsie delicately licking the wine from the lips that he himself has now tasted, albeit on only a few occasions, and still quite chastely. Except, of course, for that rather demanding kiss Elsie pressed to his lips on the train earlier today. But even her heavy kiss that afternoon on the train was not all that Charles desires, for indeed he wants far, far more. The wet trace of her tongue along his lower lip evaporated far too soon and did not leave him with enough of the taste of her. He wanted to chase after it, hold onto that strange and unique sweetness for longer.

Charles tilts his head back slightly to draw a clear breath deep into his lungs from the warm and pressing air of their private room above the theatre of the masses, trying to control his responses to his wife's actions. His mind whirls vigorously and he wonders, not for the first time today, if Elsie is actually aware of what she is doing to him. He has to think that she _i_ _s_ knowingly flirting with him, what with the way she carefully averts her eyes from him, as she did in the Hansom cab earlier. All of this is new, and so unlike anything he has experienced with Elsie before.

Of course, he has always been aware of her small movements around him from day to day- those things that are just a part who she is. Some of them he has grown so accustomed to that they barely register in his mind anymore- things like where she is standing at any time in proximity to him so that he can quite easily move his bulk around her in tight corridors and stairwells and not actually brush against her unnecessarily. Their dance of practised unison and ultimate propriety.

Yet, there are other mannerisms of Elsie's that he has been intensely aware of for years and actually finds himself willing them to happen in his presence. Things like her utterly beguiling habit of lightly sucking the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, tasting it with the tip of her tongue, it seems, when she is worrying about something, or when she is hesitating to say something the right way to him, and especially, when she is perplexed or wondering about something. All of these reasons, in turn, make him want to hold her protectively to him and assure her everything will alright; or huff at her to _just be out with it for heaven's sake_ , because he knows that she will never actively try to hurt him; and especially, it makes him wide eyed with want for her because he always loves to know what she is thinking. And at any of those times, all he has really wanted to do is kiss that part of her lip to free it from her teeth so that he might then taste it fully, and so that all of her thoughts and feelings will pour into him and so that he may answer her softly, or even urgently, with all of his thoughts and love and desire pouring back into her from his own silent lips. Even so, he has always felt sure, in those moments of pleasant torture for him, that Elsie is actually quite unaware of just what that little mannerism of hers is doing to his runaway mind and to the blood coursing through his veins.

Tonight is different, though. He feels that she _has_ to know what she is doing to him. For, even this little flick of her tongue to recover the last of the rich wine from her lips lingers in a way that he has never seen before- and he has seen similar before- many times- as they have shared wine in his pantry of an evening. At those times, however, he has always felt that it too is an unconscious action on Elsie's part, merely a function of drinking something in a ladylike manner. Yet for Charles, even that simple act has captivated him, to the point where he has sought out certain wines to serve the family, in the hopes that there will be enough remaining at the end of the night for him to share it with Elsie and fulfil certain sensual pleasures that he has vividly imagined, but was always forbidden to act upon.

For it is tonight, in this bewitching moment when he sees the last, lush drop of red wine upon Elsie's lips- in that heart-stopping pause before she languidly drinks it away- that Charles realises something with the same intense clarity he experienced earlier that day on the train. Charles now knows that he has actually been trying to whet his appetite for her over quite a few years through his own, almost obsessive, passion for fine wines. He knows now that his drive to maintain one of the finest cellars in the country has gone well beyond the standard demands of his work as a butler. He has actually chased down the finest wines for the house in the hope that it will give him some way to live vicariously a life that has always been denied to him due to his commitment to living, and even dying, in harness. In the bottles of wine that he has carefully selected, and stored lovingly and safely, and decanted and tasted only at such times as he has studiously determined that they are most ready to be indulged in- in all of that routine and meticulous effort- he knows now that what he has really been searching for is _her- s_ earching for her essence and the taste he has imagined to be on those lips that he could not touch- just as he has tried to trace that perfume of hers in the air and substances around him, but which can only ever really belong with her. He has kept searching because he thought that he might somehow taste her embodied within the finest of wines he could access and that it would somehow be enough for his lot in life.

He feels that even if he did ever find that wine that would speak most clearly to him of her, that it would stretch him to an absolute breaking point if he were to give it up to the family and they were to drink it and not truly appreciate it for all that it embodies for him. No, he does not think he could serve a wine such as that to the undeserving (heaven help him for even thinking of the family in that way). _No. No_ , thinks Charles. If he ever found such a vintage that truly held the taste and the vision of what Elsie means to him, he knows that he would not be able to share it with anyone, and he would guard it jealously. He would find a way to buy up every last bottle for himself and keep it locked in some private cellar of his own, just as the cellar of his heart has locked away all of his desires for her, behind the heavy door of duty and propriety- accessed only when he could share a small part of his foolish soul with her safely- as in those rare times when he was truly ready to- in his pantry or her sitting room, late at night when the rest of the world was asleep. Those are sacred times to Charles. Times when she alerts him, through the brushing of her skirts against her legs and the tinkling of her chatelaine, and the openness of her kind gaze, that it is safe for him to come out from his cold cellar and enter her own inner sanctum, her trustworthy heart. Elsie. The keeper of his secrets.

And across all those years of sharing the remains their long days and their late nights together, Charles has felt the nearest to her when he could watch her taste something of a wine that he had so carefully selected- the ones that held just a note of what he dreamt about as the taste of her kisses. Though, not so close that he felt driven to sequester every last drop for himself- for never has he find such a vintage, but at least the ones of great quality that he could still wrench himself to serve at his Lordship's table. Yes, those were the nights for which he has longed. He has longed to watch that lusty wine- that close but always unequal match for Elsie- watch it swirl in the glass and across her lips as she sips it slowly and appreciatively. And her acknowledgement of the quality of his choice is a statement of undying affection for him, such it has seemed to his lonely heart in those moments. And all the while, Elsie was always blissfully unaware of what heavenly torture it is for him to watch her drink of something that he imagines is somehow made from the fruits of her own hidden body.

Those nights, sometimes he would avoid talking too much, just so that he could watch that syrup sit on the lips he so longed to kiss. He would imagine how it complimented her skin and her scent and her flavour. He imagined how the taste of her lips would actually add the finest finish to the wine, and that the wine would mask none of the intensity of her own heady flavour. He knows now that nothing on this earth could compare to that- and if he could ever be granted the right to taste that mingling of the vintners art and the offerings of her soft lips, he would not be able to stop himself and he would drink of her lush body and melt into her and drown inside her soul.

And so on those nights that he had actively tried to engineer these scenarios in his favour, he would actually have to wage an internal battle of wills against his desire for her. Oh, how he struggled to stop himself from reaching out to touch her back then, when it was not his place to do so. But over time, and especially since their day at the beach- on those thick and magical nights in his pantry he has tried, when possible – and never in an obvious way (he hopes) – to lightly brush the backs of his fingers across the pads of her fingertips as she took the wine glass of her liquid beauty from his hand. Sometimes he would slightly curl his hand outwards and into her palm as he relinquished the glass to her grip, just so that he could devour a little more of her delicious touch.

But tonight-this time- he is sure that Elsie is making a conscious decision to _not_ look at him when she eases her tongue out to sip the wine from the indent of her lip. At least, not until he has looked away, when he senses, even if he does not clearly see it, that she has glanced his way from beneath her dark lashes, with a certain glint in her eye that seems to acknowledge the powerful, but near silent, reaction she has wrought from him. And then he senses her nibbling at her lower lip in that way she has- _Gods!_ _It was different again!-_ and it nearly undoes him. There is a tentativeness to the action this time, but it is all done with the most knowing of intents. Yes, he is so sure of it now- Elsie is aware of her charms and she is playing a lustful game of hide and seek with him. Charles is utterly enchanted by this painfully slow and somewhat coy revealing of her desire for him. He wants nothing more in this moment than to slide his hand to her soft neck and pull her towards him, bridging that small space between their heads as they pretend to watch the play, so that he may lick and kiss and nuzzle the remains of the wine from her lips until it has disappeared completely and all that he can taste is - _her_.

But he knows he will not. For Elsie's subtle seduction tonight seems a more than fitting entrée into their married life, and Charles will not deny Elsie this chance to reveal what she is ready to reveal to him in her own unique way. He really cannot imagine that the courting of their desire for one another could play out in any other way than through this restrained performance of longing. Yes! In this moment- where want and access are in such fluid variance- he feels like he does at the Abbey, surrounded by exquisite beauty for so long, but none of it quite his to hold onto and treasure. This is all familiar territory to him. His inner life has been deeply moulded by the fact that duty and service demand that he cannot have that which he most desires in the entire world. The only thing keeping him from total despair tonight is the sweet knowledge that he will actually, _finally_ , get to hold onto Elsie fully.

And so it somehow makes strange sense to him- that the taste of her that he so craves in this moment- in that slide of her soft, pink tipped tongue over her honeyed lips- that it is all still held _just_ out of his reach, even though it is he who has placed it at such a distance tonight in the first place. He is now assured of his decision to withhold from touching her beyond the requirements of his duties as a gentleman, for Elsie is matching him! She is revelling in all this elegance and finding herself at home with it, and with him, and so he knows now that she will indeed be more confident with him and attuned to receive his particular attentions tonight- that she will understand his intent and accept what he has to offer her.

Tonight is a big night for them- the carriage and the play, and the private box and all of the royal treatment, and the hotel- all of it is just _so right_. And Elsie's seduction is so  absolutely and maddeningly _right!_ It has style! Elsie has true style- a style that Charles plans to match, for he is a man who is _far_ from being tired of life! Tonight, he knows, in the studied movement of her lips, in the shadowing of her glance towards him- that Elsie is calling to him- like a siren- and he knows that the longer he can continue to deny himself, and deny her too, the longer that he can resist finally touching her, and tasting her lips, and holding onto _all_ of her charms, the sweeter will be their final, intoxicating embrace.

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N: A guestie wanted to know from the last chapter if they had met the Princes yet. I assumed they meant the Astaire's, which indeed they did and maintained correspondences with Bertie, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon and George over many years. As for Charles and Elsie- well… they are fictional characters- but I am working on it! ;P Probably next chapter. :)**


	16. Chapter 16- Bright Young Things

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 16: Bright Young Things**

 **A/N: If you are interested in the music mentioned in the description of the play in this chapter- do follow the links left in the last chapter (15-Stepping Out). It will give you a feel for it all. **

**Disclaimer: ****JF owns the fictional characters in this piece and I have let them out to play with a few historical persons, now deceased. I mean no offence to either JF's creation, nor the real-life people mentioned in this piece (all now deceased), or their relatives and friends who knew them, either now living or dead. I hope it will be seen that I have treated them all with the respect they all deserve.**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **CECECECECE**

Charles and Elsie maintain a silent and circling conversation of thinly veiled yet controlled desire throughout the remainder of the play. Elusive glances. The subtle movements of a fingertip across the silver latch of a purse. The stroking of flawless carnation petals into already precise position. The smoothing of floating silken skirt over the top of a thigh. The brisk clip and tug of a jacket cuff. The jostling of a fine silver chain, the watch hidden in a waistcoat pocket. The delicate smoothing of a lock of hair behind the crescent of an ear. The curl of a finger beneath a high starched collar and white tie. Each exchange brings thrilling new sensations of the body to be mastered and manipulated into another parry that will elicit a new, much-desired response from the other.

The second act of the play builds in nonsense and general joie de vivre towards a raucous finale of _'The Swiss Miss'_. The Astaires astound the crowd again with their musical and dancing prowess, all culminating in a ridiculous and low skilled romp of arm-in-arm bicycle styled marching to an oompah beat in a large circle around the stage. They build up momentum as the crowd claps its approval with an ever-hastening beat until the orchestra calls a rapid halt just before the players fall to the ground in feigned exhaustion. The crowd roars its approval, and the spectacle is repeated twice more before the players take their bows and leave the stage. Even the Prince of Wales and his brother are on their feet, and the whole crowd quickly follows suit. The crowd stomps and cheers for the players return, not wanting the night to end. And so the ensemble appears again, this time for a group round of the silly circling march. In amongst this encore the loud shout for _Lady Be Good!_ carries to the stage and the crowd picks it up and starts chanting it as they clap out the syllables- wanting a reprise of their favourite number. _Lady Be Good! Lady Be Good!_ Charles and Elsie have never heard such a din before, and even they are caught up in the beat of clapping hands, tapping feet and broad smiles.

Fred and Adele Astaire smile sheepishly and shrug resignedly as the entire cast joins them in an encore of that song too. Here the duo threw themselves into the music and work off-template, adding intricate new steps as they think of them at that moment, but somehow always understanding where the other is off to before they even start- the unspoken accord of close siblings with skills honed over years of studied performances. The orchestra segues straight into _Fascinatin' Rhythm_ as they hear the call for it building from the stalls, and finally they work to bring this rousing version to a close by sliding into the crowd's favourite Oompah-Trot sequence from the _Swiss Miss_ number. By this time the Astaires and the whole ensemble truly are out of breath! Fred takes to centre-stage to haltingly, between gasping breaths, thank his sister (who receives a minutes-long standing ovation) and all the other requisite people, and then he finally calls a halt to the night's proceedings; otherwise none of them will be fit to appear again at tomorrow's matinee show! The crowd expresses its disapproval, but the actors bow and courtesy a final time to the Royal Box, wave their goodbyes and kiss their thanks to their adoring audience before skipping elatedly from the stage for a final time.

As the din of the crowd subsides to a happy multitude of conversations and reminiscences of favourite parts of the show, Charles holds Elsie's coat ready to place it over her shoulders, once more careful not to touch her unnecessarily. She is glowing and blooming and pretty, truly pretty*, Charles thinks, and he cannot help but be carried along by her billowing and youthful happiness. He smiles broadly at her and his eyes twinkle with boy-like energy.

Charles ushers Elsie out of their seclusion and into the crush of people leaving the theatre. Elsie marvels, not for the first time, at his agility in traversing the crowd. He seems to instinctively know when people will move off at odd angles, such as when they hear their friends calling and pivot suddenly to join them. Somehow he pre-empts all of this and exhibits an agility and fleetness of foot that belies his imposing dark bulk dressed with that unconscionably high top hat. Elsie fancies that he has a spring in his step born of the beats and catchy melodies they have just listened to, and she thinks it likely, more so than usual, that his old skills as a song and dance man are coming into play. Wherever the skills were born, they somehow they manage dance unhindered through the heavy crowd. And Elsie is relishing; finally, the small amount of contact Charles seems to be offering her tonight, in the form of his gentlemanly escorting duties. After the stimulation of their constant flirtations during the play, Elsie has been craving his touch and so she simultaneously soothes and excites her need by rubbing the smooth satin of her gloves over the solid and stringy muscles of his forearm as she holds it. But Elsie knows it is far from enough for her, hindered as she is by the weight of his coat, the layering of his fine linen shirt and her glove.

Charles seems to sense, before he even sees it, a page of the Prince of Wales approaching. Charles had seen the young lad before, at Lady Rose's presentation at court, and he had grown tall and wiry over the last three years. Charles nods a greeting and listens to the request that he and Elsie be presented to the Princes Royal since they are the latter's guests for the evening. Elsie immediately grips Charles arm tighter. Charles, understanding her trepidation, gives her a quick, reassuring look; however, there really can be no avoiding this introduction if it is His Royal Highness' pleasure. Charles feels more confidence now than he felt earlier that evening when he was considering the likelihood of this occurrence. His knowledge of social protocol is unsurpassed, and he feels sure that Elsie, who has never let him down before, will also take this presentation easily in her stride.

As it is, the introduction requires no large announcement on Charles or the page's part, as the Prince appears to be aware already of the circumstances of the Carson's invitation, and so he addresses them first, and quite casually.

"Ahh! Mr Carson; Mrs Carson, Lady Aldridge informed me of your ability to take up my invitation to her. I trust you enjoyed the evening's entertainments."

"Your Royal Highness" Charles and Elsie reply in unison, Charles having removed his top hat to bow his head in succinct and practised fashion, and Elsie dipping into a poised courtesy.

Charles proceeds, "Indeed we have, Sir, and may I thank you for allowing us the opportunity. It has been set up as somewhat of a surprise gift for us, but I am confident that I can relay Lord Grantham's and Lady Aldridge's best regards to you in their absence."

" Ah, yes, I am sure. And what news of good old Flinty?"

" I understand Lord Flintshire is quite well, Sir, and very pleased to see his daughter well married and ready to welcome his first grandchild into the world."

"Good! Very good to hear. Now you simply must join us downstairs and meet the stars of the show! Oh, and might I offer you my congratulations on your nuptials, Mrs Carson."

"Thank you, Sir. It has been a most delightful day," Else replies, not really knowing what she is meant to say, for she really had not considered that an audience with the Prince of Wales was at all a possibility today... or indeed _ever_ , truth be told! She realises how the young ladies of the house must have felt at their Presentations at Court. Namely, incredibly nervous! She internally chastises herself for having been too pre-occupied with her new attire and her flirtatious interactions with Charles to be able to prepare herself better for this event. She feels exposed and fumbling in the presence of Royalty, but somehow manages to slip her indifferent servant's mask in place well enough to control her thrumming nerves. Charles, to his credit, seems to sense the exact moment she needs his steadying hand and gives her an open and loving look, even in front of the Princes. His breaking of social protocol by being so unguarded with his affection for her, leaves Elsie surprised and gratified, and better still, infinitely more confident in her own abilities to handle this situation in front of the Princes.

Again, as it is the Prince's pleasure, they are obliged to follow the royal entourage down to the green room of the theatre. And so, there they stand- to the fringes of the melee as ecstatic performers and decidedly informal Royals mingle and chat. The Astaires and other American's in the cast are quite chummy with the Princes and seem to feel no need to stand on any ceremony around them. Charles finds it all a little discomforting, but he can see that this meeting was not an uncommon occurrence for the performers, and for their part, the Princes are leading the proceedings by being decidedly relaxed and familiar with these people, particularly with the brother and sister stars of the show.

They overhear His Royal Highness talking to Fred and Adele about the christening of Princess Elizabeth that morning, stating it as the reason that Lizzie and Bertie weren't along with them to the show tonight.

"Exhaustion I'll be bound," The Prince states. "It was a somewhat odious affair all round actually- the little tyke decided to wail all the way through the service in the chapel!" The Astaires laugh along comfortably with the Princes. Charles and Elsie also note, with a slightly raised eyebrow to one another, that Prince George is looking intently at Adele Astaire, obviously enamoured of her spritely exuberance. Charles and Elsie figure he may never have seen any ladies of his acquaintance behaving quite so openly and confidently around him.

"Anyway," the Prince of Wales went on, "Bertie wanted me to tell you that you simply must come and see the new baby soon. I understand he and Lady Elizabeth will send an invitation before too long."

Soon the brother and sister stars are drawn into side conversations as they are surrounded with cheerful well-wishers. Then Charles and Elsie hear the Prince saying to Adele Astaire, "Say Adele, Freddy!" as the Prince calls out to the stars again. "You know, I simply must introduce Mr and Mrs Carson to you. They were married just today, and I thought you should both sign their program for them as a memento. What do you say?"

"Oh! How Darling!" Adele immediately trills, "Say, Freddy darling, did you hear that? Mr and Mrs Carson over here were just married today, and they came all the way to see our little show tonight. Isn't that just the duckiest think you've ever heard?" Miss Astaire appeared to have taken on more than a few of the mannerisms and turns of phrase of London's _Bright Young Things_ during her times in the country.

Fred turns to where his sister is looking at Charles and Elsie and immediately approaches them.

"Well isn't that just swell!" he smiles broadly, offering his hand to shake with Charles and bowing his head respectfully in Elsie's direction." Mr Carson, Mrs Carson. Many congratulations. I do hope that you have enjoyed the show."

Elsie immediately feels more comfortable with this young fellow, what with his youthful honesty and polite manners. He reminds her distinctly of their Sweet William ( _they would have been close in age_ ) she thinks fondly as she replies:

"Indeed we did Mr Astaire, it was wonderful fun, and you and your sister dancing together are quite a thing to behold. You must be very proud indeed. I have never heard anything like that crowd out there tonight."

He is immediately embarrassed at the compliments. "Yes… well, it did go over well, I guess. We have quite a hit on our hands... it seems," trying to minimise the focus on just Adele and him, whilst never quite believing that there isn't really a lot more they could be doing to improve the show.

 _Well, there is an understatement if ever I heard one!_ Elsie thinks. She detects Mr Astaire's humility to be quite unstudied and most charming.

Adele has been waylaid several times on her way over to them by the flirting and fawning of her admirers. She holds sparkling snippets of conversations with everyone along the way and often stops them in their tracks with her risqué and witty remarks.

"What are you about Freddy?' she chastises her brother when she finally makes it to his side. "Are you going to write a congratulation on their program or not, Dear?"

Fred looks a little to his feet and defers to his older sister. "After you, Delly," waving his hands a little towards the program Elsie holds in her gloved hand.

"Really Freddy! I do sometimes worry about you. Why are you always so shy about these things?"

And with that, she grasps the program from Elsie's hand and clicks her fingers towards her brother. "Come on Freddy! Pen ! Pen!"

Fred produces an immaculate and high-quality fountain tip pen from an inner pocket of his evening dresscoat, and Adele writes a hasty congratulation to Mr and Mrs Carson on the front of the program, signing it with a hurried flourish. "Your turn now, Freddy," she insists.

Fred adds his message of best wishes and thanks for seeing the show to the front cover with a studied hand, but quite a flamboyant signature in contrast to this, and then hands it back to Mrs Carson.

"Now Freddy, are you coming with George and Eddy and me to the Embassy Club?"

"Well Delly, you know we have an 11 am call up tomorrow, and I want to run through some new steps that I have hit on for _Fascinatin' Rhythm_ before that in the morning. I need you there..."

"Oh, Freddy! You know how I hate rehearsals, and on a Sunday too!" she complains, then turns to Elsie to share a loud and not-so-secret confidence. "He is always messing about with our routine- you wouldn't think we have already done this show about 300 times before in New York! I say it is all good enough already, but he's never happy enough with it! Are you, Moaning Minnie?" This last barb is directed squarely at her brother, who is shuffling from foot to foot, softly clipping his toes and heels a little on the floor boards of the green room- as if the music of the show is still running alive in him, and he cannot help but find the counter-beats through his body.

"Oh come on, Delly, you know you can't be late, and I swear the steps will make it even better. I will come along for a bit tonight, but only so I know you are back to the hotel and off to bed at a decent time tonight."

"Oh Freddy, you don't have to look out for me so, I will be ok with Eddy and Georgie-boy, you know that!"

Fred humphs a little in response, his eyes belying the truth that he actually thinks the Princes may be more of the problem than he is willing to say aloud.

"Well, anyway," Adele chirps to the Carsons. "It has been swell meeting you both. Happy wedding night you two lovebirds. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" she says with a pointed wink in their direction before she is swept away by another adoring fan.

Charles had gone a little slack-jawed with shock at the whirlwind he had just encountered, the lively sprite who spoke so casually and familiarly about the Royal Princes. Fred notices and feels the need to apologise for his sister's somewhat uncouth remarks to Mr and Mrs Carson.

But before he can, Elsie cannot help but chuckle in Mr Astaire's direction. " _Moaning Minnie_?!" she asks.

Fred groans and Charles is brought back to his senses a little by the sound of Elsie's brogue. He looks back and forth between his two companions repeatedly.

"Delly always thinks I am never happy with our work you see, and I guess I can go on about it all a bit too much" Fred replies, somewhat embarrassed, with his head downcast a little.

"Oh, I am familiar with one particular Old Booby like that, Mr Astaire," Elsie replies, casting a knowing look at Charles. "Perfection is never quite good enough, hey?" she adds pointedly.

Charles feels the need to pipe up now, not quite knowing how it is that he has come under gentle attack. "Well," Carsons .he states with gruff authority, "grand style requires time and effort,Mrs Carson, you know that as well as I, especially when putting on a big show, if you want to do something right, anyway."

"You sound like the two of you know this game and have worked together for a while, a bit like Delly and me," Fred remarks, slipping into surprisingly easy conversation with them. He likes the Carsons. They have a stillness to them that is calming to his flittering nerves after the elation of the night's performance. "You know, I worked out recently that we have been on stage together for over twenty years now. Hard to believe really, but you see, we started out on the vaudeville circuits as kids. Say, aren't there child labour laws now about that sort of thing!" he jokes.

To Elsie's utter astonishment, Charles replies with more comfort in the situation than she ever would have credited him with.

"Well, it is true that I did tread the boards once, singing and dancing and the like, but it was a very long time ago- variety halls mainly. But I don't think it could have been the life for me in the long term. And you are right, Mrs Carson and I have worked side by side for close to thirty years now, always putting on a good showing for Lord and Lady Grantham. There is a certain art of performance to elegant service, I have always thought."

"I think you are right there, you British sure know how to pull out all the stops for a simple party! We have been to a few now with the Princes. I like the style. We don't really see much like it in the States that way. I like watching the precision. I think I try to mimic that a bit when I'm dancing… I... I don't know…"

Elsie notes that Mr Astaire is too well mannered to make direct mention of the obvious fact, from Charles' comments, that they are servants, and she becomes even more fond of him.

"Well from what I have seen, Mr Astaire, I think you manage to capture that most elegantly in your dancing and I hope that, as it is with the British aristocracy, you too may always do it big, do it right, and do it with style. I have enjoyed tonight much more than I thought possible, I do not mind telling you."

Elsie finds it difficult to believe her ears. _Will wonders never cease with this man I have married?_

" ' _Do it big, do it right and do it with style.' "_ ** Mr Astaire repeats "Say! I like that Mr Carson, I think I will remember it. Seems like a good motto to work by in my game."

"Just a good motto for life, perhaps?" Charles returns with a smile. "You should use it."

Just then Adele calls out from across the crowd.

"Freddy! Freddy! Are you coming along now or not?"

Charles and Elsie smiled over at the brightest of the bright young things, both thinking how much she reminds them in turns, of Lady Sybil and Lady Rose and, Charles thinks, maybe even a touch of Mrs Levinson!

"Duty calls it seems,"Mr Astaire says with a wry smile. "And I am afraid that I must still apologise for my sister's comment earlier. I do hope you weren't too embarrassed by it Mrs Carson."

"Och, don't you worry about that lad, not much can shock these old bones anymore, I'll warrant you that," Elsie says with a wise smile.

"You just look out for her, Mr Astaire," Charles feels compelled to add. Then quietly and more seriously, "I know a little of what tends to be expected of young ladies from the theatre."

"I am rather afraid that is one task that I inevitably fail at Mr Carson-but I do try!" Fred replies lightly and with a resigned sigh. " Luckily though, Delly seems to have a way of always looking after herself well enough." And he casts a tender glance towards his bubbly sister.

 _Such a contrast_ , Elsie thinks. _He is a very serious young man, very studied- a bit like Charles may have been,_ she realises. _It is funny the paths we end up taking that change our lives_. And really, she is very glad, in the end, that Charles chose the path that he did. For would they have ever met if he had stayed a song and dance man? Probably not, she realises, and she tightens her hand lovingly upon Charles' arm once more.

"Well," Mr Astaire continues, "it sure has been a pleasure meeting you both. I wish you every happiness in your marriage, Mr and Mrs Carson."

"And we wish you and your charming sister every success, Mr Astaire, for hard work deserves just rewards," Charles replies.

"Well, thank you very much indeed, Sir." Mr Astaire returns, shaking Charles' hand once more, "and goodnight to you both."

"Goodnight, Mr Astaire" they reply in unison as he walks away from them with a feline grace, one hand tugging lightly at his white waistcoat, much as is Charles' habit, and with the middle, two fingers of his other hand curled in a little self-consciously.

"Well, what an utterly charming young man, don't you agree, Mr Carson?' Elsie asks as she watches him walk away, feeling strange that such an understanding and delightful connection could be made so quickly with a person, but that they will likely never meet again. _People do just drift away it seems, but maybe that is how some things are meant to be,_ she reasons.

"Indeed he was. He reminded me very much of our William don't you think? It was almost like seeing him still here as a slightly older man."

"Yes, I felt that too... in some ways… but, I fancy... he also reminded me a little of who you might have been...back in your younger days, Mr Carson" Elsie adds, a little pensively.

Charles looks down at her, a little surprised at her comparison. "Maybe...I don't know" is his only reply as he thinks of the paths he did not take, only to realise that he has no regrets on that front at all. Not now- not when he has Elsie by his side. "But now, the hour is getting late, and I believe our carriage awaits us, Milady. May I escort you to the Square?"

"Indeed you may, Mr Carson, I think the noise and lights of the city can stay for all the bright young thing, don't you? And I for one am looking forward to a little peace and quiet now at the end of our day, just as we always do" Elsie replied.

Charles looks at her, a little concerned, for he hopes fervently that the remainder of their evening will still be different enough from their standard evenings at the Abbey.

But, he decides to let the comment go. Instead, replacing his topper and bowing his head quickly towards her to signal the start their ascent to street level and their booked Hansom Cab.

 **CECECECECE**

 **Historical notes:**

 **Charles' stolen quote: * from** _ **Jane Eyre**_ **Chapter 24- 'Jane, you look blooming, and smiling, and pretty,' said he: 'truly pretty this morning…'**

 **CECECECECE**

 **I have based the conversational styles and interactions of Fred and Adele Astaire on what I have read in bios of the Astaires (Namely: Kathleen Riley-** _ **The Astaires: Fred and Adele;**_ **Fred Astaire-** _ **Steps in Time;**_ **Mueller, John-** _ **Astaire Dancing: The Musical Films of Fred Astaire**_ _ **;**_ **and, Tim Satchell-** _ **Astaire: The Biography)**_

 **Riley's book was also invaluable for understanding the play** _ **(Lady Be Good!)**_ **as it was then, and especially how the finale may have played out with the crowd on any given night. And yes, the Astaires were on Vaudeville stages from the ages of 5 and 6 years!**

 ****"Do it big, do it right, and do it with style"- this quote is wholly attributable to Mr Fred Astaire. He was not a particularly quotable star, preferring to let his dancing do all the talking, but this one always struck me as uber-cool, and it isn't too bad a way to go about life, I don't think!. Please forgive my little conceit in having Charles Carson introduce FA to it in this piece of fiction .**

 **I apologise if the accuracy of how Charles and Elsie were introduced to the Princes is lacking. I also realise that they did not take proper leave of the Prince, but I think, given the bits and pieces I have seen and read about his persona, he would not have stood on much ceremony in this setting, especially when he was about to go out. In my imagination, Mrs Freda Dudley-Ward would have been with the Prince of Wales for a night at the theatre like this; however, I didn't add it in here because I don't know how much time the two were spending together at this time. It is not integral to this particular story anyway.**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Hopefully, no persons real or fictional were hurt in the making of this fic!**

 **BorneToFlow :)**


	17. Chapter 17- When the Muse Takes You

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 17: When the Muse Takes You.**

 **A/N:** **Just a quick dialogue drabble chapter that I thought of- for who doesn't talk about the show they have just seen on the way home from the theatre?**

 **Don't worry, the hotel and the** _ **'moonlight and music and love and romance'**_ **aren't going anywhere! (Sorry- still in Astaire-ville- I cannot help myself! (The italics just then are lines from a song in the film** _ **Follow the Fleet (1936)- Let's Face the Music and Dance,**_ **by** **Irving Berlin. Sorry no links- just go and watch the whole film!) ;P**

 **I will up the rating to M for Chapter 18, just to be on the safe side. For Chapter 19, the volume will most likely 'go all the way up to eleven', to quote Nigel from Spinal Tap :) - so set the filters accordingly after this one if you can't find them.**

 **Thanks for the reviews, something glitchy is happening with FF and so many have not posted it seems, but I do get them all.**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **CECECECECE**

As the Hansom cab tries to make its way clear of the masses of people still milling around Leicester Square after the various theatres in the precinct have emptied, Elsie considers Charles closely in light of his reactions to the evening's entertainments. He has surprised her. She did not think that he would show such enjoyment at being back at the theatre, given the palpable air of embarrassment he has had about this aspect of his past.

"Charles," she starts tentatively, " I have to admit to being a little surprised when you told Mr Astaire how much you liked the show. I rather thought you would hate to be back in a theatre again. You weren't just being polite were you?"

"On the contrary, I did mean what I said about the work being stylish, even if the music and fashions have changed so much. But, I guess it is the preserve of the young to go out there and change the world, isn't it?" He asks rhetorically.

She looks at him in askance.

Seeing that Elsie wants more of him Charles continues, "But I actually _did_ find the show quite charming and amusing. It did my heart good to see so many bright young things doing their best to lighten the world up a little." He turns serious all of a sudden and lets out a long sigh. "It just sometimes feels like it has taken the world _so_ long to crawl out from under all of that grief and gloom from the war. And being on the memorial committee has brought it all back for me- more than I anticipated. They were such very dark times."

"Aye, that they were," Elsie quietly replies, a sliver of sadness crossing her eyes. But she does not want Charles to stop, for it may not be a topic she can turn him to so easily in the future. _And really,_ _it feels normal,_ Elsie thinks, _to speak this way together at the end of a day- just as we have on so many nights back at the Abbey_. It is a precious time for both of them, Elsie knows. It is a time when truths are revealed in safety and goodwill.

"I don't know," Charles haltingly proceeds, "...and then Mr Astaire reminded me so much of our William,- so precise and dedicated, and polite too… and... I realised, once again, all that can never be for our young lad, and for so many young lads, really… no place for them to carve out their lives, to work hard and create something good in this world... But then, tonight, there it was - _all this life, -_all on show again- and then the silliness, and the beautiful dancing, and the crowd were all having such fun… and… I guess it all made me realise what an important job it is... in the end- to try to make people happy…- And maybe that is what can stop all of that darkness happening again… I suppose… I hope... Hmmm… I guess it all made me think, too- that... that maybe that is what sent me to the stage in the first place: to make people happy. And so maybe I shouldn't be so embarrassed about it all anymore... I don't know. It was all so long ago… But I do think that maybe that is also what I have really been doing all this time in service, Elsie, - trying to make people happy. Don't you think?"

Elsie smiled in new adoration of her complex and beautiful man. She had expected some anger or resentment from Charles about having to go to the theatre, but not all of these sophisticated insights, and easy openness to the fun of it all. Wanting to lighten his mood again after his somewhat unexpected and melancholic musings, she states surely, "And I would say, Mr Carson, that you have been a resounding 'hit' on that front, as Mr Astaire might put it. _And,_ if this honeymoon surprise gift from the Grantham's is any indication, you have many admirers who think the same."

"Oh, I do think that it was the Downton Double Act that swung this little adventure our way, Mrs Hughes!" He smiles mischievously at her, one bushy eyebrow raised high.

Elsie chuckles and smiles broadly back at him. _Well, he has made me happy once again, that much is certain!_

 **CECECECECE**


	18. Chapter 18-Coming to Their Senses: Touch

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 18: Coming to Their Senses: Touch**

 **A/N:** **A review from Suzie suggested I get Elsie's take on what she thinks of Charles' physique. Well, turnabout is fair play I guess, so I re-jigged my final 'Senses' Chapter to be both Elsie and Charles' perspectives on the sense of touch.**

 **Still, fairly safely T –stuff I reckon, but I have upped the rating to M just to be on the safe side- will be needed for the next chapter I think. I am hoping that might be done over the weekend.**

 **Hope you like this one, all the same.**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **CECECECECE**

 _"Oh, I do think it was the Downton Double Act that swung this little adventure our way, Mrs Hughes!" He smiles mischievously at her, one bushy eyebrow raised high._

 _Elsie chuckles and smiles broadly back at him._ Well, he's made me happy once again, that much is certain _!_

 **CECECECECE**

Charles and Elsie finally settle back into reflective but smiling silence in their cab.

Elsie concentrates on the sounds of the crowds in Leicester Square diminishing and the horse's hooves on the roadway sounding out the beat of their journey towards their first home together. Once more, she is intensely aware of Charles' proximity to her. But somehow, Charles manages to leave the finest of gaps between their upper arms and their thighs on the narrow bench seat they share. Side-by-side. And unlike earlier in the theatre box, where the playful, back and forth flirting they engaged in across the night was exhilarating, now the lack of contact at the heart of it is starting to drive Elsie to distraction.

 _How can he remain so ramrod straight and motionless, yet still manage to dance away from me?_ Elsie heatedly thinks. _He is defying every expectation I had of him tonight. And_ _I_ _can barely stop myself from reaching for him! Why has he not let his hand linger on my lower back as he has ushered me through each doorway tonight? Why has he not touched his hand to my lower back_ _at all_ _? I could swear he has touched me more freely back at the Abbey some days._

He is ghosting contact over her, and every nerve she has is unstrung.*

CECECECECE

The carriage is jostling them steadily since the horse is able to maintain a steady trot down Piccadilly now that the traffic has cleared at this late hour. Charles has unconsciously started to tap a foot in some sort of fascinating counter rhythm to the sounds of the horse's hooves, like the beats from the songs from the show are still playing through him. _My song and dance man seems to have awakened,_ Elsie muses, _or perhaps he is nervous too._

She feels her skin moving freely against the silkiness for her new clothing and it makes her acutely aware of the fact that they are fast approaching that part of their 'full marriage' that had recently filled her with so much trepidation. But, everything has changed so much for Elsie- and all in the space of one short day! She marvels that this could be the case at all, for is she not still the same woman as yesterday? A woman deemed pretty enough, in a general sort way in her youth (nothing more), and who is now staring at the wrong side of middle age with a body that has come close to failing her in illness, and that is not getting any fitter or younger, and will no doubt fail her again before too long? It is the same body she had in the months after Charles proposed- that same body she has fretted about being able to please him. How is it that she can _now_ feel so vigorous and capable and desirable?

It is true- Elsie cannot deny the marvellous feelings that have been building within her all day- on the train, as she reflected on their wedding morning and aspects of her past with Charles; and as their hands touched and their lips brushed; or as they had danced in each other's arms later; and as she read and heard his fearlessly honest professions of love for her. Indeed, the depth of Charles' love for her is certainly something she could never doubt again, and Elsie knows that her love for him is just as strong. Is it this alone what has made her feel such waves of joy and happiness and sensual excitement?

Now that the hotel is looming ever closer and the final destination of their wonderful and romantic and fun night out together is pressing ever closer, the feelings that Elsie is almost entirely focussed on now are the purely carnal reactions her body is having to Charles's. For the thing she does know that has distinctly changed for them today is the freedom they now both have to indulge in the slow-burning and intricate courting of their desire that has played out between them tonight. Never before have they let so much of their want for each other be revealed so openly- even though Elsie knows that they have been more than discreet with their affections in public.

She feels a shiver roll over her entire skin just thinking about it. _What is this? Anticipation? - Yes… but more than that..._ All that Elsie can, somewhat tenuously, liken this deep physical reaction to is a strange sensation she remembers from long ago – the distinctly physical response she sometimes had as a girl back on the farm, before she really knew what animal urges might be, or why they might be stirring within her. And even now, Elsie cannot quite fathom why this particular occurrence should bear any resemblance to what has touched her nerves so strongly today- when Charles is near her. Her reactions back then had been unconscious, they came from a place of innocence, really, and certainly from ignorance, for no one ever spoke of what it meant to be a woman before she was thrown into the need to work to support her ailing parents. Elsie just remembers the feelings back then were raw. Real. The sensations then were powerful- that strange excitement she felt when she had to lead a horse out to her Da- the animal all quivering and muscular, the sleek neck and course hair warm beneath her fingertips. But it was the _power_ that it contained- frightening in its size, but controlled and graceful- and at her command- yet willingly so- for she knew that no animal that naturally and wildly powerful could be held by human hands unless it chose it willingly, and certainly, no mistreated animal would ever do anyone's bidding well or for very long on a farm. But Elsie remembers now that strange connection she felt to another living creature that lives within the tight constraints of required behaviour. That vigour she sensed in the animal- it was the same as the one inside her- coiled tight but below her consciousness. It was inside her- within her body. A body that was then growing inexorably towards womanhood and greater responsibilities and expectations- that feeling of absolutely raw energy that sounded out to Elsie in the clipping of the animal's agile feet on harsh ground; or that she felt in the snorting misty breath- hot against the chilled air around her face; or that she could the touch in the quivering hard shoulder muscle as the beast leaned firmly into her upper arm- all that vitality- so close- mirroring her own such that it would send tingling shards running from her neck to the base of her spine- even at that young age. It seems wrong now- now that Elsie knows what she knows of such things, that this physical reaction should occur back then- in _that_ way. But back then, it was just innocent energy, growing and responding to the living reflection of itself in another vital spirit.

But tonight it is different. Everything about tonight has been intensely conscious for Elsie. It is different, but it is still entirely thrilling, and for Elsie, it feels completely liberating- for all of her fears about not being able to please Charles as she is now have been proved false. They have been crushed by a few steely glances her way that openly displayed a potent energy for her. _Lust_ \- for there really was no other word for it- and she has never seen it directed to her from anyone before, not really, not even Joe Burns- who was dear and kind and would have been a gentle and dutiful husband, but, really, no more than that. For Elsie thinks that to display lust, as Charles has done so for her tonight, actually requires a great openness to being vulnerable- to trusting someone fully. For who can say when your raw feelings might be kicked back in your face? Ridiculed? Is that not what she really feared might happen to her, if she displayed this part of herself to Charles and her body was not an adequate vessel to inspire him or in which to house their passion? _No_ , Elsie reasons, lust like this- that looms large and feels exciting and powerful and empowering, and even dangerous at times, but is ultimately safe, must only come from a place of true love- where it can be given as equally as it is received.

CECECECECE

Elsie studies Charles' strong profile- the too-large nose, his silly, bushy, loveable eyebrows! – The ones that she just wants to repeatedly smooth down with the pads of her thumbs and brush back up again to make her smile. The sleek silver of his slicked back hair. His very handsome, clean-shaven jawline with that delightfully deep cleft on his chin- she thinks her fingertip might fit nicely into that indent. And those beautiful, soulful dark eyes. And then, resting neatly above his knees, his gentle broad hands which, most excruciatingly tonight, still do not reach to hold hers. If it were not for the fact that she has kept glimpsing that spark of longing in his eyes when she catches him looking towards her; if it weren't for the fact that she can hear a deep hum, almost imperceptible, rising from his broad chest as he breaths, slightly heavier, maybe even more rapidly than normal; if it weren't for the glimpse of his Adam's apple bobbing slightly above his high starched collar when he seemed to need to swallow down that desire that she has seen rising in his eyes… No, if it weren't for these minute signs, Elsie might have started to believe again that he was not as interested in beginning a full marriage with her tonight- one that she is now positively yearning for.

Tonight, the dizzying mix of flirtations and the small signs of the raw and lustful power lying behind all of his immaculate restraint just serve to make Elsie ever more ardent. She feels almost wanton in her desire for his large body to be pressed against her. She wants to feel the bulk of his torso in her arms- wants to try to hold him so close that her hands can actually meet together at his spine, which she knows is not _quite_ possible from the few embraces they had shared so far. But she wants all of that – to touch him, and find out if he has strong muscles across his chest, as she has imagined he would have from years of holding hefty platters aloft. She wants to squeeze tightly to his upper arms and know that it will not hurt him- that he would actually _want_ to feel that strength from her and that it does not shock him. She wants to feel the fleshy softness of his cuddly belly against the skin of her own age-loosened middle and know that her being old and not so taut and trim anymore is still desirable to him- for he is still entirely desirable to her. She wants to run her fingertips lightly up his strong, muscular legs, to feel the hairs that she imagines are there- running coarsely across her fingerprints. She wants to be able to rub her palms across his smooth and toned buttocks and squeeze tightly into the taut muscles that she imagines have built up there after years of climbing stairs and standing still for hours at attention. She wants to feel how the years of his life in faithful service have sculpted his body. She wants to feel all of that powerful heat of him pressed up against her skin, filling her belly with shivering warmth. _Oh, Gods! Elsie! Get a hold of yourself, Lass!_

Elsie feels heat sting across her neckline, creeping up to her ears. She knows he has seen it too, for his feet have ceased tapping to his own tune. _Can he hear what I am thinking?_ For she feels, irrationally, that he can. Or at the very least that he can already read her body as it calls out to him. _Can he tell? Can he tell that all this holding back is building in me the sweetest deepest longing I have ever felt for anything?_ _Can he tell now that all I want to do is grab him by his lapels again, right here in the bouncing carriage and steel another fiery kiss from those deliciously full lips of his that look like he is far too relaxed and happy for this world- like the cat who got all the cream in the dairy. Is that what he reads upon my skin?_

 _Och! Control yourself, Lass!_

Elsie breathes deeply, trying to cool her thoughts through the inhalation of the pleasantly cool night air. It takes several lungs full, but finally, she knows that she will not cave. She will hold onto her decorum in this small carriage right now. For Elsie knows that, somehow, this holding back of his, this restraint, is exactly what has attracted her to him over all these years, and there is a very large part of her that wants to keep holding onto this aspect of Charles and their unspoken connection for as long as she can. There is a part of Elsie that knows that once this self-imposed boundary of no contact with each other is breached tonight, that it will be like a circuit completing and firing. And as much as the power of their connection, she is sure, will strike like electricity through her body and sustain her always, she also wants to feel that relief and release to its fullest when they are both fully ready. And so she desists.

Elsie carefully refolds her slim gloved hands, places them demurely in her lap, and is still.

CECECECECE

As Charles hands her down from the carriage, Elsie feels compelled to remove one of her gloves and pet the lightly sweating horse that has seen them safely home. The horse snickers contentedly into her palm and its neck muscles twitch in the cool night air as it settles down from its recent exertions. Elsie quietly gives thanks to the horse, not feeling at all silly speaking closely into the ear of the dumb beast. Charles looks on, a little surprised, yet lovingly amused to see Elsie in all of her finery looking so comfortable next to the rather common looking nag. Charles enjoys his wife's reactions to the animal nonetheless. He sidles up to join her, rubbing and slapping his large white-gloved hand firmly against the tired animal's neck. All of Charles's instincts and comfort around these animals has not left him, even after all these years away from the stables. He also speaks to the horse, freely, soothing it with his low rumbling voice as he might one of the babes in the nursery when sleep eludes them.

"There's a good lad, you've had a long day haven't you? Time for your rest now, boy."

Elsie is equally struck by Charles' interaction with the chestnut pony. Although they do not touch when she runs her hand down the horse's neck, skimming close to Charles' now fur and sweat-mucked glove, Elsie feels that same frisson down her spine that she felt as a young woman when in the presence of carefully stilled animal intensity. Only this time, Elsie knows that it is Charles' latent energy that causes the sensations running down her spine as she secretly hopes for his strong bulk to touch her, somewhere. _Anywhere._ She wonders if Charles senses the shiver run over her back and what he might be feeling in this quiet moment, for he is quite unreadable.

Charles does not reason much about it, but he wants to see the small horse well cared for tonight. And so Charles hands the driver what he thinks is a generous amount for the other fares he may have taken that night and tells him to take the beast home, rub him down early and for the man to go see his wife and family tonight.

"Well thank you Guvn'r, thank you kindly," the Driver tells him enthusiastically, and assures Charles and Elsie that he will do just that.

Elsie gazes lovingly at her husband once again as he deftly fishes a pristine white handkerchief from inside his jacket and hands it to her to wipe away the earthy grime from petting the horse- the kindness of his soul shining brightly under the warm glow of a street lamp at the edge of the darkened green.

Silently, they turn and, hand-in-arm, walk through the hotel doorway, nodding thanks to the doorman on their way.

CECECECECE

Outside their suite, Elsie exchanges some brief pleasantries with the floor butler about the success of their evening, and then Charles requests that the man arranges various details in preparation for their outing tomorrow. These are to include a later than normal light breakfast delivered to their room, no maid or valet service in the morning, a booking for the 11:30 am high tea in the Palm Room, omnibus route details from Buckingham Palace to Millbank, and later from Millbank to the Victoria Embankment Gardens. Charles has decided that a motor taxi from the gardens back to the hotel would be more efficient at getting them back in time to freshen up for their late, 8 o'clock dinner booking in the Hotel restaurant. He also reasons that, after the whirl of all these events at the start of their marriage, that they might be a little too tired to face the other forms of transport on the route back to the hotel. All of these are tasks that, of course, Charles could have discharged with ease in his own role as Butler, but tonight he has other, far more pressing and enjoyable duties to attend to, and he is happy to allow the superior services of the Ritz Hotel to cover these particulars for them. Being waited on is such a rare pleasure for them, after all.

CECECECECE

Maintaining his reserved distance, Charles sees Elsie into their suite once more. She stops in the little foyer and is helpless to prevent the wave of anxiety that sweeps over her about what will happen next between them, and this is despite the surety she has of the fire of both Charles and her attraction to one another- the attraction that Elsie herself has helped to flame so vigorously across the evening. Charles, ever the attentive butler reassures her with the bulk of his presence behind her. The strong low rumble of his steady baritone seems to touch her skin and soothes her nerves as it has always done. With silent steps, he approaches her near the foyer mirror and simply asks, "Your coat, Milady."

They do not speak. It is a practiced routine- reassuring in its mundanity. It soothes Elsie even further, as the plush velvet pools briefly at her ankles. With a deft flourish from Charles, she feels the soft brush of its hem against her silk stockings as he keeps it from touching the floor as he lifts it away from her- years of practice keeping his hand from skimming against her in any way. She looks up at Charles in the mirror as he carefully hangs her lush garment and removes his top hat and gloves, placing them on the valet sideboard. Elsie goes to unpin her hat, but Charles holds up a hand towards her head.

"Please, Milady," he speaks deeply. Slow. Somehow his syllables seem drawn out, "Allow me."

Elsie looks intently into his reflected eyes and gives the slightest of nods. He carefully removes the pins that secure the hat in place, managing to avoid brushing his fingertips on anything, bar a few strands of her hair. She feels the whisper of the touch. He turns to place the hat near his own on the valet and asks permission, with his eyes and with an infinitesimally small gesture towards Elsie's hair- _May I?_

 _Yes_ is the answer from Elsie's eyes, which have grown wider with quite some wonder as she sucks her lower lip between her teeth. No man has ever unpinned her hair before.

And for now, at least, Charles will allow himself this small contact with Elsie.

Time draws out as he reaches to find the first pin that holds this new pleasure in place, and he wonders, not for the first time, how long her hair is when it is down. The new style is so expertly pinned that he cannot tell how much is tucked under at the nape of her neck. Even when it had dusted against his cheek earlier when they had danced so closely. And now, as he runs his eyes over it from behind her- where he can breathe in its soft floral perfume and the warm and light duskiness that rises from the skin of her scalp – that aroma that makes his stomach tingle in contentment and fluttering anticipation for other dreams he will soon be able to touch- oh, so gently. But no, not even when he is this close to Elsie's hair... he cannot tell its length.

Her enchanting hair- pinned up with promise- a secret treasure to him it has always seemed – a trove that holds for him a gift of scent and softness. And now, tonight, it is his to handle- reverently.

He ghosts his right palm over the waves of her new style, as he has wanted to do so all night- to feel the soft ridges and valleys of the waves bump and flow over the mounds of muscles at the base of his fingers. So soft.

Charles' acute eye for detail easily locates the pins that hold the style in place. Never touching through to her skin, carefully working around her ears, he pulls the pins gently, one by one, from her hair and places them in his waistcoat pocket. The style drops away and he sees for the first time the long braid that has been hidden at her nape. It is so much longer than he expected! The end of her plait has not been tied with linen, as he had seen it in the past, on those few occasions when the house had to be roused from their slumber in the small hours of the night. He reaches down to where its end sits at her waist- that precious space that he is now is allowed to lay a gentle hand upon when escorting her.

Without brushing against her dress, he slowly lifts the end of the braid up and runs the tip of it under his nose, inhaling deeply and smiling as if the most delicious food has just been set before him. He teases it across his own lips. Elsie is mesmerized. She cannot look away from the man in the mirror. His great, broad fingertips delicately unravel the plait, sliding each strand slowly away from its bed-mates before threading them in between his fingers and sliding down until it all flows out of his fingers and drops, lightly curled, onto the back of her silken dress again.

Both hands move slowly, up to the back of her neck, and without brushing his fingers to the pale skin he sees there, he reaches underneath the weight of her mane and lifts it away from her body. Finally. _Finally-_ as in his dreams! He runs his hands through it, clasping large handfuls of it and letting it slide over his palms- again and again- smooth and strong like so many pieces of gently arching silverware.

He thinks of the times he has gazed into the golden lamp lit shine of the finest cutlery he has polished for the great house over the years- every day- days without number- and he has imagined her hair to have that same strength and smoothness in his fingers, but her hair was always forbidden to his touch. But now Charles knows its warmth against his palms, for he has always known that it could not be harsh or cool, and never rigid and unforgiving like a brightly hewn and polished knife, yet surely tonight Elsie's hair shines just as bright.

Like a knife. Sleek. Swift. He feels a sharp and piercing wound of ecstasy shoot through him as he senses that he is somehow holding all of Elsie's essence in the strands of her shining hair- running and falling through his hands. Running and flowing. Over and over- in a rhythmic dream of the senses. Strong- like Samson's strength- and soft. So, so soft. That softness which is Elsie's strength. And her hair- the fine embodiment of all that strength. Her essence personified in the tangible.

He is even closer now, and her hair is everything he has dreamed of across so many fevered and lonely nights on his too thin cot in the cold attic, the sheet stretched tight across him. He licks across his lips with a tentative tongue as he realises how close he is to having this dark and bright, silken waterfall draped over his bare chest. How close he is to seeing it fall to the front of her neck, now that it is free from its neat confines, and that it will lightly cloak her breasts as she sits astride him. He is now so close to having a smooth wall of her hair veil his face as she leans down to kiss him from above- over and over.

Elsie marvels at the way that Charles is luxuriating in the touch of her hair alone, for none of their skin has been in contact yet. Her breathing is shallow- she does not want to distract him. She holds her breath as he lifts a sheet of her thick hair and leans into it, breathing in its floral warmth like oxygen, rubbing it over his cheek and against his closed eyelids. The sight alone of his silent, soft reveling causes a heat grow in Elsie's belly, and a sting of sharp excitement sweeps outwards across her decolletage as her heart skips and stretches across a beat.

At the intake of her breath, Charles looks up into the mirror, sees her glittering blue eyes. Deep. Mouth slightly open. Breaths fast and light.

"Mr Carson," Elsie's voice gravels in her throat. She worries that she will break this spell, but somehow her low and sultry tone makes her next words sound incredibly seductive to Charles. "I never really took you much for a ladies maid."

His eyes alone show the slightest smile, and equally low, with a velveteen roughness, he speaks slowly, "I have performed many different roles across my years in service, Milady," he penetrates her gaze with his, "but I am now indentured solely to you. Allow me, if you please, to attend to all of your needs."

His breath is heavy and close and warm across the loosed hair on the back of her head. She shivers as he steps back and gestures towards Elsie's dressing room.

With the slightest of nods and eyes shimmering with desire and unlimited trust, Elsie steps further into the room.

 **CECECECECE**

 **More on the weekend, I hope. Don't read on in these notes if you don't want the spell broken :)**

 **A/N 1:** **quote shamelessly modified from** _ **Jane Eyre,**_ **when Jane meets Rochester unexpectedly in the fields, as she returns to Thornfield after her trip to Gateshead.**

 **A/N 2:** **Charles tapping his feet to the beat of the carriage is also shamelessly stolen! This time from Fred Astaire in** _ **Top Hat (1935),**_ **when he commandeers a Hansom cab as he tries to woo the Ginger Rogers character.**

 **CECECECECE**

 ***The next A/N is quite off topic for this fic/chapter. Don't feel obliged to read it- I am just sharing some info that happens to fascinate me…**

 **A/N 3:** **This is for any who might want a character for the hotel floor butler, which I didn't go to the bother of describing in this fic- as it is too brief a scene. Or otherwise, just visualise your own hotel floor butler and insert as needed! However, I cannot help but share the love as I visualise one of the stock camp servant characters that Eric Blore played in any of the following films with Fred Astaire and more often than not, Ginger Rogers- only because I have gone down that whole Astaire pathway in the first place! Anyway- these are fun characters to look out for in the following films- if you are interested.**

 **The Head Waiter in** _ **Flying Down to Rio (1933)**_

 **Waiter in swanky Brighton beach hotel-** _ **The Gay Divorcee (1934)**_ **(and also in the stage 1930 stage version)**

 **Bates, (Quote:** _ **"Good Evening, Sir.**_ _ **We**_ _ **are Bates.")-**_ **Manservant to Edward Everett Horton's equally camp and bumbling character, Horace Hardwick in** _ **Top Hat (1935)**_

 **Gordon- (who merely** _ **thinks**_ **he runs a dance school) in** _ **Swing Time (1936)**_

 **Cecil Flintridge the Hotel Floor Butler in** _ **Shall We Dance (1937)**_

 **Jackson the Butler in** _ **The Sky is the Limit (1943).-**_ **His classic line:** _ **"Yes, if I weren't such a gentleman's gentleman, I could be such a cad's cad."**_

 **Eric Blore actually managed to craft a very busy career in film out of these sorts of stock characters. Well done to him I say – not everyone can be the leading man and these parts add texture to a whole piece, even if they are clichéd- but hey – what is musical comedy if not a series of clichés?**

 _… **.Ok… so it probably doesn't really fit in with this fic at all come to think of it!- and this is really just me spouting on about stuff that interests me!...**_

 **Anyway, these closet –homosexual characters are still important and surreptitious disruptions of the Haye's Code that tried to stop any really juicy stuff appearing in flicks for so many years in the Golden Age of Hollywood.**

 **These closet homosexual characters are generally drawn as one-dimensional effete and/or bumbling pansies at best, and are used shamelessly as light comic relief. However, it can also be argued that these characters' inclusions in films were a way to bolster (probably quite unconsciously) the visions of masculinity that the American public wanted post WW1 and the Great Depression/ Dustbowl era- when the vigour of manhood had led only to brutal destruction, and was then further undermined by the loss of work, land, and livelihoods. The placing of these characters may be particularly fitting for Fred Astaire, who is not a classically strong leading man in either voice or stature, or even facial features- and** _ **(Lord above!)**_ **\- he is a man who** _ **also dances!**_ **So, these stock characters can help the public view FA as more manly and virile by offering an even more effeminate and often incompetent contrast. Also, the clichéd pansy characters can never act as rivals for the leading lady's affections (see the film doco** _ **The Celluloid Closet (1995)**_ **for more info on the presentation of diverse sexuality on film).**

 ** _**See? _ You just gotta dig a little into the light fluff sometimes to find a bit of depth and even darkness. I do love these nuances of films of the age, though.**

 **Despite the Haye's code limitations on films of the era, it is still lucky for us that Fred and Ginger were making love on screen through their sizzling and stylish dance routines the whole time! Seriously- get onto watching these classics! The whole gender roles and courtship rituals between the two are fascinating- far more nuanced than Fred relentlessly chasing a girl until she finally gives in. Some of the dances build a genuine equality, and mutual give and take of affection/ admiration of the others skills and charms-** _ **Isn't it a Lovely Day to Be Caught in the Rain**_ **from** _ **Top Hat (1935)**_ **immediately springs to mind here. See John Meuller's thorough book on** _ **Astaire Dancing**_ **for scene by scene break downs of every film dance he performed-(if you really start getting into this sort of thing a lot… like me!). Arlene Croce has also examined the films of Rogers and Astaire in detail** _ **(The Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers Book)**_

 **The article that has been really most influential in my thinking about these things can be found here- especially the gender and great depression stuff, but touches on the camp side-kick characters too.**

 **To cite this article: ** MARGARET T. McFADDEN (2008 _) Shall We Dance?: Gender and_

 _Class Conflict in Astaire-Rogers Dance Musicals_ , Women's Studies: An inter-disciplinary

journal, 37:6, 678-706, DOI: 10.1080/00497870802205225

 **To link to this article : ** 10.1080/00497870802205225

 *****Just get onto Fred and Ginger films at the very least. In fact, watch them before you read that last article- just enjoy it for what it is! I am just one of those weird people who likes to pull apart the toy later to understand how it all works- and that increases the pleasure in itself… sounds a bit like fan fiction writing hey?!**

 **But do go and see why Fred and Ginger were the megastars of the 1930s and why people would applaud loudly after every dance on screen in the movie cinema, _and_ pay to see their films multiple times -they are truly mesmerising, and we have not seen their like anywhere since, in my opinion.**

 **OK- Plug finished! ….I think…**

 **;P**


	19. Chapter 19- To His Coy Mistress

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 19: To His Coy Mistress**

 **A/N: ****Definitely rated M for this honeymoon fiction now- adult activities described. If that is not your thing, turn away now. Certainly NSFW- but done so in a tasteful manner, I believe. You have been warned!**

 **It is my first foray into this territory** _ **ever**_ **. I hope it tasteful enough for all you lovely viewers out there, and FF guidelines safe- and that it all has the intended impact on readers! I also hope that all fans of Chelsie and DA realise I only want what is best for the old Boobies!**

 **Read the other chapters first if you haven't already, otherwise patches of this may not make sense.**

 **Disclaimer** **– JF owns it. I do not profit, and I try to treat them well. **

**Enjoy!**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **CECECECECE**

From Chapter 18 -

 _Elsie marvels at the way that he is luxuriating in the touch of her hair alone, for none of their skin has yet been in contact. Her breathing is shallow- she does not want to distract him. She holds her breath as he lifts a sheet of her thick hair and leans into it, breathing in its floral warmth like oxygen, rubs it over his cheek and against his closed eyelids. The sight alone of his silent, soft revelling makes a heat grow in her belly and a sting of sharp excitement sweep outwards across her décolletage as her heart skips and stretches across a beat._

 _At the sudden intake of her breath, he looks up into the mirror and sees her glittering blue eyes. Deep. Mouth slightly open. Breaths fast and light._

 _"Mr Carson," Elsie's voice gravels in her throat. She worries that she will break this spell, but somehow her low and sultry tone makes her next words sound incredibly seductive to Charles. "I never really took you much for a ladies maid."_

 _His eyes alone show the slightest smile, and equally low, with a velveteen roughness, he speaks slowly, "I have performed many different roles across my years in service, Milady," he penetrates her gaze with his, "but I am now indentured solely to you. Allow me, if you please, to attend to all of your needs."_

 _His breath is heavy and close and warm across the loosed hair on the back of her head. She shivers as he steps back and gestures towards Elsie's dressing room._

 _With the slightest of nods and eyes shimmering with desire and unlimited trust, Elsie steps further into the room._

 **CECECECECE**

Elsie leads their way, and Charles willingly follows. His night and day long quirk of referring to her as 'Milady' now fully understood and accepted with effortless grace. Charles' hooded eyes dreamily watch the new, supple sway of her hips as she walks with her usual sure and petite gate towards the dressing room. He cannot even visualise what new treasures of cotton or lace that might reside beneath her floating wedding gown and which make her every move so fluid and sinuous, so seductive. A brief swell of giddy pride sees his fingers flutter excitedly near his thighs once more and his heart thuds clear and bright in his chest.

Still in his full evening livery- a single white carnation of pure love the only visible difference in his bearing from that of his role as the butler in the great house. To one side of her dressing table, behind Elsie, Charles stands.

Still.

Ready to attend.

Silently, he moves the dresser chair well back from the table for her.

"Please be seated, Milady," he intones quietly.

Elsie accedes.

She looks intently at his eyes on hers within the mirror- so different from that day he looked forlorn and lost behind her when she set out for her test results. His eyes are still dark and glistening- but now they overflow with hope and love and happiness… And much more.

"Do you trust me, Milady?" he asks calmly.

"Entirely."

"Then _husshh,"_ he draws out the breath across her hair. Low. "Be still, Milady. Let me love you."

Now, finally, Charles knows that everything from his past- the things that he had seen, long, long ago- etched onto his eye and brain - Y _oung licentious curs! –_ Etched forever, he had thought- those things that had wounded him, marked his life with pain and betrayal and loss. It was only now that he knew these things could be re-formed in the actions woven between their two loving bodies. Transformed. Made infinitely beautiful in their eyes and hearts alone.

Together.

Charles takes his place behind her dressing chair. Every fibre of his being stringing with latent need.

Electricity- held taut in precise restraint.

With fine coiled power, his breath whispers over Elsie's luxurious auburn locks.

Still.

Measured.

He begins.

 _* Had we but world enough… and time,_

 _This coyness, lady, were_ _no_ _crime._

Elsie's eyes shoot wide onto his, crackling with instant recognition.

Pleasant shock…

Awe…

And irrepressible _want_.

His deep melodious voice sings low, slow, worship over her. Hot blood rushes from her every extremity, leaving ears and hands and toes tingling and cool as her heart fills and pauses in a breath. She tries to fathom fully what is to come- what he has so obviously thought about, deeply- and planned…

And that deep, rich voice that enchants her so… Complex. Nuanced. All deep rubble and soft heather. Boundless.

She knew now. She knew.

Everything he had done tonight, everything he was doing now, was for _her_ alone. Safety for her vulnerability. Love for her concerns. Desire for her body beautiful. She feels her eyes prick with tears of sweetest tenderness for the man who is _her_ Charles _-_ poised to make love to her with his voice alone- in tones she had never heard until that day. That voice that arcs over their hoary entombed flint and her dried bracken lust- deep-rooted- sparking fire and lightning across her new unfurling desire.

Deep. Lush. His baritone rolling dark with hunger. And, slow… _Oh …_ so slowly…

 _We would sit down, and think which way_

He slides with silent equine grace to one knee before her. First with one, and then the other, he lifts each slim gloved hand into his great and gentle paw, lightly pinches tips of cloth between thumb and finger-side, loosens the sleek grip, bunches fabric from elbows and gently pulls the coverings free with satin glide. He inhales her perfume from their length, floating them over the backs of his hand. Stroking. Folding, inhaling… Then places them aside.

 _To walk, and pass our long love's day_

One elegantly shod foot rests gently in his palm, his broad fingers un-hasp the buckle. The shoe slips off and finds a home beneath her chair.

He unbuckles the other.

Removes.

 _Thou by the Indian Ganges' side_

 _Shouldst rubies find;_

A glinting six-pence pours from shoe to palm. Now turning borrowed happiness in his fingertips, he looks up and sees her eyes- catching round silver reflections in dark and bright blue depths, streaking with clouds of desire. He runs the coin on edge over her shin…her knee…her thigh. Pressing softly to flesh through silken mauve. Shivers ripple beneath. Breath is caught on rouged lip, held by teeth. He deposits their coin into her open palm and slips his hand away before they touch. A ring of gold clicks faint 'gainst silver disc as fingers curl instinctively around their great good fortune.

 _I by the tide_

 _Of Humber would complain._

He rises to his feet before her, sweeps his hands in silent gesture and with hypnotic, tender force he draws her up before him. Eyes dark and heart full, he gazes all his love upon her face.

 _I would_

 _Love you ten years before the flood,_

Time holds still.

His palm ghosts over temple, eye and cheek. Soft downy hair prickles for his touch.

 _And you should, if you please, … refuse_

 _Till the conversion of the Jews._

Fingertips, shaking with stinging need, whisper close to her lips, return to her temple, and crosses her brow. Air sits between his every trace. Breath escapes at shallow, uneven pace. A tiny movement of her head tells him clearly- ' _No, I'll not refuse you.'_

Sliding deft and silent behind her, the silken mane is parted, lifted, slid over strong fingers and draped to rest over each shoulder, onto her fluttering chest.

Seven covered buttons revealed. He slides their loops, lifts her dress clear of skin by shoulder seams. The neckline drops and scoops. Down limber arms, his hands slide dusky-heathered silk, catching lightly on nipples pushed tight to sheer slip and peach-blushed satin bands.

Heart thudding, his chest resounds. She hears it as her own. His eyes widen and smile at her with darkened delight. Her breath restarts. Tongue tips slide across parched lips.

Sound slips.

Scraping past his dry and gravel hardened throat,

 _My vegetable love should grow_

 _Vaster_ _than empires…and more slow;_

Time. The day. The dress... All of it drops away.

Past elbows. Past wrists and hand- clenched on silver coin- wrestling with desire. Over hip and thigh. Past deep internal fire. Silk. The dress pools in swirling waves about her feet.

Kneeling to the floor, he beckons.

She steps clear.

He rises, and with deft and measured pace gently hangs her cloth mantle behind rich and shining maple doors.

Returning. Deeper- his voice resounds.

 _An hundred years should go to praise_

 _Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;_

Hot breathed- lips murmur wordless approval and exhale close to her face. One hand winds into streaming hair- fingers slide through, brushing feathered ends against cloth clinging tightly to heat-blushed breasts. Concealed. But ready to be blessed.

Wide eyes follow his gliding dance of black and white. Captivated by strange minglings of what is right before her and what is reflected in reverse. A pulse spikes and winces red across her chest and up her neck, leaving a quick chill from where it has left. Her dry throat swallows heavy panting air into her chest.

Behind again- his smallest fingers loom large but slide delicately between the straps of the finest linen shift and her new brassiere. The chiffon rises. Her arms drift aloft in a dreamlike state. She straightens- back tall and lithe- arching low towards his warmth- stretched across the moment. The shroud lifts up about her face. Eyes close. Breast heaves. Teeth taste rouge.

The veil is removed.

Her hair falls back around her breasts. Her ragged breath stirs fire in his loins. His eyes meet hers in dark embrace within the mirror's walls. Casting down. His long and loving thirsty stare runs over bumps and dips, across fine exposed, pillowy midriff. Her satin covers sit tight and high on curving waist and liquid warmth pools silently beneath his lingering gaze.

Light. Meticulous. Tips of dexterous fingers pour focus onto silken covered pearls of promise.

Undone. One by one.

Opened.

Straps of satin slide over pale, smooth shoulders. The band of skin-flushed colour glides down- catches on the tightened buds of rose-blushed breasts and drops away- from chest, from arms, from wrists. He holds the smoothest fabric in one hand and rubs it softly on finger pads and thumb, and gazes- admiration bright- at far softer gifts draped in dark and silken hair, still hiding from his reach. His painful lust surges hard and hot. A groan escapes his throat as a wondrous smile plays across his face.

Flushed with pride, tinged with trepidation, her right arm curls to hide the blemish at her side. Eyes blanch- concerned, but brief. He pulls petaled love from his lapel and presses lips soft with his purest love's caress to velvet pristine bloom. He shifts- surely, slightly, and slides an arm around her. His thick wool sleeve brushes smooth across her bicep- and he tells her, most assuredly, of his praise.

 _Two hundred… to adore_ _each_ _breast,_

Stem held long across his curved palm, the bloom rests tenderly at his fingers tips- he runs white silken love from summer's early blushed life over her soft, inviting glory and their fears of times gone past. His hand, with silver-jagged scar, floats- whisper close- and shadows her puckered, tightened cup. Twirling his flowering kiss into the depths of all her pain, time-toughened scars stitch up… and are healed again. Tears glisten in eyes, dark and brown, crystal and blue, caught long in loves pure, deep embrace. His hooded orbs gaze longingly, following as the flower pushes locks of hair aside and smokes across each glorious breast, swirling beneath heavy mounds and brushing heightened peaks of deep and dusky pink. The small catch of a wanting cry weeps across her tongue.

Husky throated, he continues what he has begun.

 _But thirty thousand to the rest;_

 _An age at least to every part,_

 _And the last age should show your heart._

Her body ripples and sways beautifully before his eyes- before her eyes- reflecting the desire of her soul. Mouth ajar and gasping in short breaths, nerves and skin swell and flow- following the flower's path with twitching, shivering need. Velvet soft.

Then at her back, his white starched front scrapes a shoulder blade as she leans into his weight. And this- _this_ is where the nerve is truly touched and teased. Mirroring his want and iron will, she holds her ceaseless excitation- her movements, her burning need for his skin's touch- so close but all _too_ far away- all of her burning instincts- she tethers down- holds them once more under quavering, ruthless restraint.**

He runs the flower down her sides, across the top of silken briefs, down the lines of lace to garter clips, across her undulating front of womanly promise, over shimmering nerves, between each breast, to heaving neckline hollow- fluttering fast between her collar. Across boney ridge to solid shoulder- round, and smooth. Then down her arm, a path is traced by velvet petals bloom, and at her wrist, he twirls again, and the flower comes to rest upon her opened palm.

Eyes locked intensely together, his heart speaks out their truth.

 _For, lady, you_ _deserve_ _this state,_

 _Nor would I love at lower rate._

Sliding starched cotton and hard pearl studs around her back, his hand's ghost over her, climbing up limbs length- close- but still too distant, skimming prickled air over her lust slackened arms. To rest. To lightly rest upon the layered hair beside her face.

 _But at my back I always hear_

 _Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;_

Hands slide down her silken locks.

A step back. Apart.

His eyes bore deep into the mirror of her shimmering eager soul.

 _And yonder all before us lie_

 _Deserts of vast eternity._

He ducks and bends on reverent knee to trace a path of heated air 'twixt fingertips and spine. A sparking quiver follows his need. Rounding softened hips and muscle mounded curves above stair-toughened thighs, he flickers fingers deftly at clasps with slow intent. Finding release, he unclips the tops of silken covered legs.

 _Thy beauty shall no more be found;_

 _Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound_

 _My echoing song;_

Open palmed, he rolls the gossamer cloth's length slowly down each leg. Pressing into her skin through the finest weave, past each knee, he chases ripples of nerved electricity down to ankles with the music of her moaning breath. Then sidling 'round he bids her sit and lifts each ankle free from pale silk, revealing dainty alabaster feet. Shuddering under the waves of her own fervour, she curls her toes heavily into plush carpeted retreat as dark and solid heat rises from beneath his waist and brushes faint through black-drill cloth beside her shin. Breathing rough above her skin his head moves, bending low and skimming lips, a feather's breadth away, over her tensed thighs to twitching hips. Across. Floating close.

Across. Floating close.

Floating close.

He stops.

Breathing hot and ragged over satin-blushed peach covered delight, he inhales deeply her sweet and heavenly musk.

Rasped and urgent, he intones-

… _then worms shall try_

 _That long-preserved virginity,_

 _And your quaint honour turn to dust,_

 _And into ashes_ _all_ _my lust;_

Closer. His voice wavers higher with conflicted want.

 _The grave's a fine and private place,_

 _But none, I think, do there embrace._

Hot and dry. Desperate for all that they could have so easily missed- he exhales deep longing through her final sensual covering to stir the oasis of her womb. Bucking with the smallest twitch, her hips roll. Involuntary. Swaying towards his reverent face, his tongue tip licks over his parched, but lust reddened lips.

Stretching his liquid covered lips above her waist, skimming his hot words of praise with the force of his slow-chapped love across the central dip of her life's first holding thread, a fast twitch of energy thrills in a line towards her chest. He follows its path- raises his head and brushes the stiffened bud of her longing nipple- light and unintended- with his great eyebrow.

Breath catches. She shimmers and a giggle of loving delight flits across her eyes and cheek and ripples in her throat. Her lust smiles down at his- steel darkened- as her hips undulate, unbidden, with beckoning need, and gazing at her joyous, yearning face he halts briefly within his stiffening purpose, then quickly motions his intentions. She follows. Mirroring the gliding of his upwards sweeping hands, and with languor slackened knees, somehow, she stands. Fingers brush and dip and bump over round budded buttons at her sides. Slipping loose the eyelets of life-long chastity, the waistband opens, and feathering fingers run light across satin seams to draw shining fine-threaded fabric down over hip bone definition.

His breath steams lush and smoky adoration across her voluptuous belly.

 _Now therefore, while the youthful hue_

 _Sits on thy skin like morning dew,_

 _And while thy willing soul transpires_

 _At every pore with instant fires,_

Slowly. Unfurling her with all of his love bared soul shining on his face. Lowering down the final cloth- it falls heedless to the ground. His sultry breaths and thirsty yearning words stir over her secret warmth- her sylvan glade of curls.

Chest heaving. Legs tense. Hips writhing. Eyes wide with fascination and desire gaze upon her own body and her lover before her inside the looking glass.

Revealed.

Hot gravel rumbles from the depths of his chest and shakes through his adoring voice. His head sways in sweeping lines across her life from side to side- tracing electric fire, dancing with the sway of her hips.

 _Now let us sport us while we may,_

 _And now, like amorous birds of prey,_

 _Rather at once our time devour_

 _Than languish in his slow-chapped power._

His fingers flutter with desire at her rounded sides of pliant delight. Then, mirroring her own strong hands clasped tightly on softened, bruising petals and heat hardened metals, his hands fist with rigid force, holding onto his unsteady and weakening will- holding on by the few remaining threads of his ruthless, self-imposed restraint. His voice- rolls, moaning in counterpoint to her panting mewls. Drawing out. Halting. Pulling in a sharp and laboured breath. Then.

Then.

Billowing sudden gruff and lust filled thunder across the soft and darkening planes of her most private and slowly surging skin.

 _Let us roll_ _all_ _our strength and_ _all_

 _Our sweetness up into_ _one_ _ball,_

 _And_ _tear_ _our pleasures with_ _rough_ _strife_

 _Through the iron gates of_ _life_ _:_

 _Thus, … though we cannot make our sun_

Skin connects. _  
_

 _Stand still, …_

Large hands grip sudden and hard to rolling hips.

Voice growls-

… _yet_ _we_ _will make him run._

Fingers dig into shuddering, pliant flesh.

She gasps.

The coil arcs.

Plunging deep. His wet smooth tongue dives into hot velvet silk's embrace.

Unstrung.

Open.

Rumbling low- his first and last primal voice roars want and love through the lush valley of his beauteous wife.

Untamed.

Unleashed.

Vibrating through to her innermost core.

Open.

Opened against the animal need of his singing voice and palms and fingers and tongue.

She bucks wildly and calls her love and life's prayer in an instant of shuddering, uncontrolled ecstasy.

" _Ó_ _dhìol!_ _Ah!_

 _Ó mo chreach! …mhór!"_

The flower drops.

Rolling Gaelic curses leave her soul to heavens flight.

Gasping.

Formless.

Her music fills his ears and heart with his whole world's sweetest song.

Her life spills forth from her long hid font. Sweet ambrosia pours over his parched and willing tongue. Quenching need and driving desire on.

On.

Quivering and twitching violently in his hard hands. Wanton. Rolling. High desire keening- panting under his hot and wet, demanding kiss.

Rising.

The finest needle's point of their purest pleasure threads slick and prickling warmth to her utmost extremity.

Her walls clamp tightly in final shuddering embrace. Hands grip into silver locks as she grinds hard into his loving face.

" _Char…Charles!… Char-liee!…mhór!... mhór!..."_

Every fibre of her being that across the day had been so tightly strung -now snaps – and she splendidly unravels in his hands.

Suddenly weakening, she shakes and collapses, slack-boned into his strong supporting grip.

Lowering her gently to the seat he drives into her once more, kissing deeper, reaching again for her core- her soul of purest love.

" _Mo chreach-sa a thàinig! Aah!"_

Pushing her beyond what nerves and body can hold onto and comprehend - as stars of dotted light break behind her eyelids, she shudders and bucks again and reflexively, she roughly pushes his head away and cries out _"No!- No! No more! Charles… I can't…I…"_

With a sudden final and fierce spasm, she pulls her hips back and her torso crumples over his head and shoulders.

Overwhelmed. Panting. Filmed with hot and prickling sweat, her heart thuds against his ear, her eyes stream hot and wonderful tears of sweet release over his hair and neck.

" _My_ Lady. _My_ _Lady,"_ he murmurs his sweet and sure devotion over her soft belly, still rippling beneath his breath and the soft kisses he places lightly upon her skin. She is home. Her breasts brush warm and heavy about his head. He is home.

The laughter of sheer wonderment at the joy of living courses up through her, demanding release. She leans back and draws his head up to her own. Hands still woven in his hair, she kisses him repeatedly, fervently- all over his slightly smug and shining, grinning face! Her laughter bubbles up in between the kisses she rains over his forehead, his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, his silly, big and beautiful eyebrows. Giggling and crying and catching huge drafts of clear breath, she sighs long and smiles her adoration all over his face. Yet another precious smile filled with the sunshine of true feeling for Charles to file away in his personal ledger of sweetest memories.

" _Oh…_ _A chagair!_ _... My darling…My man… My Charles_." She kisses his face again and again, in between each of her heartfelt devotions.

Her breathing finally starts to slow, and she holds his face steady between her hands. She looks deeply into his eyes through her joyful tears and kisses him full and loving on his swollen lips- briefly shocked, but soon fascinated and savouring and licking and tasting the sweet and peppery exotic flavour of her own lush ruby fruit upon his tongue. She plays languorously inside his mouth, feeling heat stir low within her again as she mimics what he has just done for her. She does not know where Charles learnt of such an act, but he has shared it with her and appeared to enjoy it immensely, and he is responding now, so she is sure he is not too shocked by her own unexpected response to her scent upon him. Her beautiful and fearless and giving man.

Foreheads now resting together in their shared delight, she sighs in shivering contentment.

 _My Lady._

He holds onto her tightly around the waist until she fully calms.

 **CECECECECE**

Definitely TBC :)

 **CECECECECE**

 **IF you are interested…**

 **Another multitude of Historical and other notes!:**

 **So, this is the chapter and the piece of poetry that I originally envisioned writing with when I started down the road to Chelsie-ville. I am sure that says quite a lot about me… but I shan't dwell too much on such things! I just hope it has worked out ok.**

 ***** **A/N 1:** **I hope I haven't ruined anyone's favourite poem here! It is** _ **To His Coy Mistress**_ **by Andrew Marvell, c. 1650.**

 **I will put the whole original flowing piece below in this A/N 1. ..and a link to the best read-aloud version I have found. Sorry, no Jim Carter one available! ****... or Alan Rickman, or Jeremy Irons, or Timothy Dalton, or Sir Anthony Hopkins for that matter! Any of their gorgeous voices would have done it for me! Most of the read-alouds rush sections of it, or are in American accents, most annoyingly! Well, at least to my ears (Sorry, no offence intended at all, but I just have to hear it with a British accent for DA purposes!). So, this one link, read by Samuel West watch?v=mhZuxUyNA14 is at least passable. **

**That said, the flow/ timing/ phrasing and intonation are still quite different in places to what I envision when I read it aloud, and compared to what I was going for in this FF piece. I do believe that poetry should be read aloud (or at least with an audible voice inside your head) so as to understand the nuances of the word sounds and expression, and the different pacing you can get from a piece. All of these things can substantially change the way the words can be interpreted.**

And, a word on pronunciations- Although this poem was written well after the Great Vowel Shift (1350-1600) that saw the English language take on most of the sounds we generally hear today (Distinct from Chaucer's old English pronunciations in the Canterbury Tales)- **from what I understand (and I could well be wrong), in a piece this old, a poem like this could well have been read with all written rhymes pronounced as true rhymes- for example:**

 _ **And yonder all before us lie  
Deserts of vast eternity.**_

 **Could possibly have been said as 'eternit-eye'.**

 **When you read it that way a few times, you do get used to it, and so you can stop seeing it as an annoying wrenched-rhyme in the written text.**

 **I hope you think this poem works well with our character's lives…(I do!- otherwise, I wouldn't have written this piece I guess!). I saw it as fitting because of Elsie's fears re. The full marriage thing, and also because of their incredibly slow burn, yet very deep rooted love and romance seeming to fit the scope of the love described in this poem (Chelsie: "like a pair of Galapagos Turtles slowly making their way towards one another!" to misquote Jim Carter).**

 **Also, Charles and Elsie's somewhat advanced ages can substantially change the probable original intent of this poem- which would have been to get a much younger, and possibly unwilling, woman into bed quick smart! The somewhat jarring imagery of graves and ruthless time/ time wasted is quite fitting where our Old Boobies are concerned, I think.**

 **I have tried to break the poem all into this story in a very particular way, using underlining emphasis to help… I hope! It was an incredibly difficult chapter to write, and I just hope it works for some readers out there. (Please let me know!).**

 **Just keep that voice of Jim Carter in your head (He and Imelda Staunton have done some read-alouds with WW1 war poetry if that helps at all- just Youtube it)**

 **Here is the full text of the poem with correct stanzas, punctuation and line breaks:**

 **To His Coy Mistress. BY** **ANDREW MARVELL** **c.1650**

 **Had we but world enough, and time,  
This coyness, Lady, were no crime  
We would sit down and think which way  
To walk and pass our long love's day.  
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side  
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide  
Of Humber would complain. I would  
Love you ten years before the Flood,  
And you should, if you please, refuse  
Till the conversion of the Jews.  
My vegetable love should grow  
Vaster than empires, and more slow;  
A hundred years should go to praise  
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;  
Two hundred to adore each breast,  
But thirty thousand to the rest;  
An age at least to every part,  
And the last age should show your heart.  
For, Lady, you deserve this state,  
Nor would I love at lower rate.**

 **But at my back** **I always hear**  
 **Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;**  
 **And yonder all before us lie**  
 **Deserts of vast eternity.**  
 **Thy beauty shall no more be found,**  
 **Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound**  
 **My echoing song; then worms shall try**  
 **That long preserved virginity,**  
 **And your quaint honour turn to dust,**  
 **And into ashes all my lust:**  
 **The grave's a fine and private place,**  
 **But none, I think, do there embrace.**

 **Now therefore, while the youthful hue**  
 **Sits on thy skin like morning dew,**  
 **And while thy willing soul transpires**  
 **At every pore with instant fires,**  
 **Now let us sport us while we may,**  
 **And now, like amorous birds of prey,**  
 **Rather at once our time devour**  
 **Than languish in his slow-chapped power.**  
 **Let us roll all our strength and all**  
 **Our sweetness up into one ball,**  
 **And tear our pleasures with rough strife**  
 **Through the iron gates of life:**  
 **Thus, though we cannot make our sun**  
 **Stand still, yet we will make him run.**

 **OOOOOOOOO**

 **I know people do not read poetry anymore the way they used to, but I believe it is accurate to assume that both Charles and Elsie were educated, even to a low level at a grade school, in a time where learning poetry verbatim was expected (although I doubt this particularly raunchy one would have been on any Dame/ grammar school curriculums!). That said, people used to read aloud to each other in the evenings as entertainment, and Charles and Elsie, we can assume, have both had access to the vast library of Downton over time. So, I personally believe this rather old poem would have been known to both of them, hence Elsie's instant recognition when Charles starts it. However, I am guessing** _ **To His Coy Mistress**_ **was still seen as a rather risqué piece by Victorian and Edwardian standards and would have been read privately rather than shared. Those secretive and lusty heroes of ours -hey!**

 **As I said, this was very tricky to write and get flowing anywhere near where I wanted it. I did only put letters to screen for this during this week, but it was my initial idea when setting foot in the Chelsie DA FF universe. The previous 18 chapters were really to give me the bit of plot I needed to hang it all on! For those of you who haven't read those, my references to previous imagery used in this chapter may not make much sense- so go back and read them first! Thanks.**

 **The piece actually went off, quite unexpectedly, into a bit of a rhyming couplet/ poetry/prose direction. I hope it works for at least some readers out there! I have read it over so many times when editing that I cannot be sure if the thrill is still there! Please let me know if you care to review it. Also, this night of love is definitely to going be continued. I was aiming for one big chapter, but I decided to post this bit first as I ran into an interesting problem…**

 **Namely, I am now having to consider posting two alternative chapters for what happens next for C and E. Both could work equally well…I think. Again the flow of writing took me to a different place than I initially envisioned. So!- do you want Charles maintaining an almost inhuman level of physical restraint next, or, do I just let all his walls crumble as soon as Elsie gets at him? Kind of a choose your own adventure really! I will end up writing both, I think- and I will make sure they are both Charles and Elsie are entirely happy by the end of it! This is first time territory for me, but it is lots of fun! Let me know if this worked for you and if I should go on.**

 **I actually feel very self- indulgent writing any of this fiction at all, really!**

 **A/N2:** **** Line doctored mercilessly from** _ **Jane Eyre:**_ **"This was the point—this was where the nerve was touched and teased—this was where the fever was sustained and fed: to witness** _ **this**_ **, was to be at once under ceaseless excitation and ruthless restraint."**

 **-Jane Eyre watching Blanche Ingram getting it all wrong trying to woo Jane's beloved Rochester at the house party at Thornfield (Jane Eyre, 1847, Charlotte Bronte)- such great lines of prose- Again, I just couldn't help myself pilfering it for my own selfish devices!**

 **A/N 3:** **I have loved those FF Chelsie shippers that have Elsie (or Dr Clarkson) falling into original (assumed) Gaelic tongue at the heights of passion. I have tried for it here. Apologies if I have mixed a multitude of different dialects together, I was just loading stuff into this Gaelic: English Translator and Dictionary- ( lexilogos- english/gaelic_scottish_ ) It is fun because some of the words have audio pronunciations you can listen too. The ones I have chosen also look the way I want them to on paper, even if I haven't heard how to pronounce them- look them up for meanings, or make up your own meanings and pronunciations- Like I do!**

 **A/N 4 : ****I have had some interesting research insights about people's knowledge of sexuality and sex acts in this era from DA FF-er, Edward Carson (thanks** **).**

 **So, would Charles have known about the act I describe in this chapter- and would Elsie? Well, obviously my assumption is that Charles has stumbled across Alice and Griggs at this one backstage when he worked the halls. I may elaborate later on his motivations for trying this with Elsie at all… not sure- it would have to come up somehow in a conversation between them- so a tricky one really. For Elsie, I think she would have found Charles' actions here quite a shock, but I believe she found it pleasant in the end! Plus, I think she is a woman who can take unknown things in her stride pretty easily and adapt to these new circumstances without shame. So- it could make for a lot more fun for both C and E in later chapters!**

 **According to info from Edward Carson though, apparently, street corner/ underground knowledge of sex is all a lot of people in the Victorian and Edwardian ages would have received prior to entering the marriage bed- so you had to hang out in some potentially 'insalubrious' places. I think Charles has encountered a thing or three in his time, even if he did not partake. I also think that he would have had his share of pulling errant footmen and hall boys away from the young scullery and housemaids in his time- what with hormones running wild below stairs and so many darkened doorways and the like.**

 **The church would also have had a huge influence on people's ideas about morality (SIN!) and the marriage bed- causing all sorts of reticence to speak and learn about such things, as we all know because of the Patmore/ Carson/Hughes triumvirate meetings on the matter. That said, there was quite a hot-bed of hidden pornographic material available in the Victorian era –( advent of photography, easier and cheaper printing processes, etc.)- and all seemingly in direct contrast to the levels of personal restriction that society and the church were imposing on people's behaviour in day-to-day lives.**

 **So, I do think Charles knows a bit from his days in the bawdy music halls, and he may or may not have partaken of some 'gentlemen's services at times in London- but I tend to think that would be seen as pretty shameful by him and not indulged in very often.**

 **And Elsie states that she - "May not be a woman of the world, but I haven't been living in a sack." That says to me, she probably has not had relations with a man before, or at best, only a couple of youthful knee-tremblers in a barn, or below stairs in a previous household. Either way, I believe she knows a hawk from a handsaw in this situation. My reasoning, as stated in my profile treatise on all things DA and Chelsie, is that she has seen and heard and walked in on enough people in the act over her years in service to understand what men and women get up to. She has helped Anna after the rape, and Ethel- (didn't she walk in in that one?- cannot remember now). Plus, she grew up on a farm, and I know from my own background, that you see animals at it all the time, get an idea about anatomy from a young age, and eventually, you shockingly realise that your own parents must have done something a bit like it all in order for you to exist at all- and then you stop thinking about such things! I reckon Elsie might have ended up present at the odd human birth in her time too, so has probably seen some female anatomy up close, even if she has never held a mirror up to herself- to speak quite literally. I think the mechanics of sex would be well understood by Elsie. But, as for the events of this chapter – she probably has never heard of such a thing being possible, let alone being a desired act for a man. So, it was lucky for her that Charles knew what he was about, hey?!**

 **Anyway, that is just my take on it all… I hope the theory of the possibility of this happening** **at all** **rings true for other readers, for I do know that I have stretched the bounds of what level of self-imposed physical restraint is humanly possible in such circumstances!**

 **Don't forget to tell me which way to go in the next chapter- a bit more self-imposed restraint for Charles (his brain may well explode I think!) – or Elsie breaks him down a bit quicker than that-( to her mutual benefit in the long run, in both cases, of course !). Please cast a bit of a vote.**


	20. Chapter 20- Undone

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 20- Undone**

 **A/N 1:** **Thank you for the reviews I did get for the last chapter. I hope it wasn't too out there with the language form for all the views I did get. In terms of the potential to write two versions if this next chapter, once I got in there and started on this, I found there was a way to have the best of both worlds I was requesting readers vote on. I hope it still reads true to Elsie and Charles in this new situation in life.**

 *** Warning: _Adult content_ -* and a bit more straightforward with the language than Chapter 19 was. NSFW! Enjoy. **

**A/N 2:** **Before that though, I just wanted to share these three lots of lines from _Mrs Dalloway_ by Virginia Woolf (a novel set in 1922, London)- as they are a) superbly written, and b) hugely influential to me and my ability to dig behind these characters and the moments of their life throughout this whole fiction- not just these last two, more risque chapters. If you have read all my fic so far, you will see how I have pilfered and doctored VWs style mercilessly! Although... the influence of that juicy third quote has certainly snuck heavily into Chapter 19, for Elsie's benefit, I now realise! Just citing my influences... **

_^'The compensation of growing old, Peter Walsh thought, coming out of Regent's Park, and holding his hat in hand, was simply this; that the passions remain as strong as ever, but one has gained—at last!—the_ power _which adds the supreme flavour to existence,—the power of taking hold of experience, of turning it round, slowly, in the light._

 _^^'Because it is a thousand pities never to say what one feels, he thought, It was a great age in which to have lived.'_

 _^^^ 'Only for a moment; but it was enough. It was a sudden revelation, a tinge like a blush which one tried to check and then, as it spread, one yielded to its expansion, and rushed to the farthest verge and there quivered and felt the world come closer, swollen with some astonishing significance, some pressure of rapture, which split its thin skin and gushed and poured with an extraordinary alleviation over the cracks and sores! Then, for that moment, she had seen an illumination; a match burning in a crocus; an inner meaning almost expressed. But the close withdrew; the hard softened. It was over—the moment.'_

 **Now go out there and read this Virginia Woolf masterpiece of modernist literature! :)**

 ****Disclaimer:** **JF owns them, but they are running loose in the world now and their images can be manipulated through the wonders of technology and the imagination. I do not profit from this.**

 **Have fun like Chelsie ;P**

 **BorneToFlow**

CECECECECE

From Chapter 19- To His Coy Mistress

"Oh…A chagair!... My darling…My man… My Charles." _She kisses his face again and again, in between each of her heartfelt devotions._

 _Her breathing finally starts to slow and she holds his face steady between her hands, looks deeply into his eyes through her joyous tears and kisses him full and loving on his swollen lips- briefly shocked, but soon fascinated and savouring and licking and tasting the sweet and peppery exotic flavour of her own lush ruby fruit upon his tongue. She plays languorously inside his mouth, feeling heat stir low within her again as she mimics what he has just done for her. She does not know where Charles learnt of such an act, but he shared it with her and appeared to enjoy it immensely, and he is responding now, so she is sure he is not too shocked by her own unexpected response to her scent upon him. Her beautiful and fearless and giving man._

 _Foreheads now resting together in their shared delight, she sighs in shivering contentment. He holds onto her tightly around the waist until she fully calms._

 **CECECECECE**

Most reluctantly, he moves to loosen their embrace. Leaning back, he runs his hands softly down her bare arms and then presses heavily into the seat's cushion at her sides. Unlocking his aging knees, they click audibly as he pushes up slowly. He barely hides a groan of pain, but it is also tinged heavily with rekindled heat as he takes in once again the sight of all of Elsie's lovely nakedness, now beautifully flushed and sated. Growing uncomfortably harder in that instant, he rises to full height, trying, vainly, to shield his arousal from her. Elsie's eyes follow him intently and her hands reach out longingly towards his own, not wanting him to go, but he steps briskly away and leaves her to stand behind her chair once more, but now up against the wall, awaiting further instructions.

And they are soon forthcoming.

Elsie quickly tests the strength of her own legs, finding anchorage through the curling of her toes into the carpet and gripping onto the back of the dressing chair. From the mirror she sees him standing to attention- _What is he thinking!- the daft old booby!_ \- and another chuckle escapes her lips. He is adorably dishevelled, with his starch fronted shirt rucking up and out of his waistcoat and his hair completely mussed. He is trying, quite hopelessly, to straighten himself and to hide his growing need from her. He has never looked so wonderfully handsome and completely desirable. A brief but amazed glimpse at her own full and flushed figure in the mirror makes her feel proud and surprisingly youthful and vigorous. Refilled with joyous erotic energy for her utterly surprising and loving man, Elsie fairly skips her first steps towards him, admonishing him soundly with her heady, love thickened brogue.

"Don't you dare try to put even one more hair to rights, Mr Carson."

Glistening and gloriously naked, her hair hanging long about her heat-flushed shoulders and breasts, she walks as sure as Lady Godiva in the streets towards him.

He groans audibly. He never knew that she could _saunter_ \- not like this! She is lithe and exotic. She is everything beautiful. His hands clench forcibly at his sides again- nails digging deep. He knows now the feel of some of her soft flesh and it was not enough. It will never be enough. He wants more.

 _But not yet. Hold. Hold. Not quite yet, Charles…_ he tells his rapidly weakening resolve.

Dangerously low, huskily, she warns him, "My gorgeous man, if you don't let me touch some more of you- _right now_ … one or both of us won't survive 'til morning!"

His eyes widen again and his jaw gapes and the air escapes his lungs in sharp shock, then his whole face breaks into a beauteous grin. He has _never_ heard her sound quite like this! His Elsie, striking forth at him with loving fiery barbs- as tall and confident as ever she was. No more fears of not being able to please him. _I did that!-_ he thinks. _I_ _helped her to see!_ He feels silly childlike pride sparkling inside of him and his hands open and fingers flutter by his thighs again. _It worked!_ And he had adored every minute of it, and he would do it all again for her in a heartbeat- make her happy like that, let her know how much she is loved and that she is entirely desirable. And he just _cannot_ believe his luck in this sweet, hot moment- that she wants him too… _and_ she is coming for him!

He curls his hands into fists once more to stop that giddy, jumping and fluttering he has felt run through them the whole day long. He tries to strike an impassive butler's expression, and knows he is failing miserably! Trying harder to maintain some semblance of order to his mien, but unable to stop smiling like a total goof, he stupidly starts quoting, "If it were now to die, 'Twere now…"*

"Och! Shut up, Charles!" she cuts him off and with love and laughter in her eyes, she throws her arms around her lovely husband's neck, pulls his head down and crushes his lips to hers in a searing kiss. He gladly takes all of her sweet admonishments and moans into her hot and pliant mouth, and he just cannot will his hands to stay away from her warm flesh any longer. His arms envelop her and pull her up against him running his large warm hands up and down her back, over her full hips, cupping and squeezing, and stroking down the backs of her strong thighs, finally feeling all the lines of love he had only traced in the air above her up until now.

He knows she can feel his hardness pressing up against her through his trousers, but she doesn't seem perturbed by it, and with all of her soft loveliness wrapped up in arms, and his hands wandering to squeeze and fondle and caress her, it really is no longer in him to care. He has held back long enough, and although he will follow her lead in this, he also knows she wants him to touch her in the way that he has always wanted to touch her, the way he has shown her he soon would, from only moments ago. And _now_ she was ready for it all- and he is ecstatic!

They kiss deeply, tongues gliding and dancing together, breath hot and mixed. Without having to look, one of her hands snakes from the back of his neck around to his bow tie and pulls the end to release the knot and slides it off him to rest over the top of her shoulder. In a single deft move she slips the stud from his high starched collar and pulls it away from where it was cutting into his reddened neck. She tosses it ingloriously aside. _Sweet, blessed relief!_ He feels like he is breathing for the first time in his life. Breathing in the life of _them_ from her own lungs as they kiss.

When she breaks their kiss, panting hotly across his chin, he moans at the loss of contact. She sees his sore neck and immediately reaches to soothe the areas with her lips. His skin, so close, smells divinely of his earthy, fresh shaving soap- and when she slicks her mouth along the iron red tinged lines, it zings on her tongue- like drinking whiskey from a metal cup. Strange and exotic, but somehow still comforting and homely. Charles moans his relief and his pleasure as his hands keep roaming her back, feeling each bump and ridge of her spine and swirling large circles with his fingertips over her fleshy buttocks. It is heavenly.

Then she leans back a little in his arms and opens her left hand between them to look upon the silver six- pence she had been gripping onto tightly all this time. Gazing up intensely into his eyes, her beguiling rolling accent sounds like smoke and light on the moors, calling to him, as she tells him-

"I believe I am due to give some borrowed happiness back to you, my dear Mr Carson." _That accent!_ He wishes, _insanely_ , that he could somehow eat it up! Pointedly, she slips her life-long promise to him into his waistcoat pocket to sit with her hair pins, and his heart swells fit to burst. He smiles like the happiest of fools and looks at her adoringly.

"I love you, Elsie," he says simply, and he steals another deep kiss from her delicious lips.

She has run her hands between them now and managed to release the few buttons of his waistcoat and now starts to unfasten his small pearl shirt studs. The sight of her fine fingers playing over their round hardness is exquisite and his hand slides up to cup her breast and fondle with one of her nipples in kind. He marvels at it hardening beneath his touch and his breath whistles hard and sharp between his teeth as she hums blissfully at his ministrations. Shifting his supporting hand from her lower back he reaches to her other breast, feeling its comforting weight in his palm as his fingers move to double their mutual pleasure. She mewls and rolls her hips into him and he is utterly entranced by her. He grunts slightly as heat surges through him where she is moving against his trousers making him harder than he has ever felt before.

She deposits the shirt studs into his waistcoat pocket then runs her hands firmly up over his starched shirt front, pressing through to his hard chest and then glides her fingers under black lapels to shift his tail coat off his broad shoulders. He shrugs himself out of it, reluctantly taking his hands away from her breasts to let it slide down his arms. The jacket drops quickly to the floor. He knows that he should hang it up to stop it wrinkling, but his eyes and hands are drawn inexorably back to her breasts and they are of far greater importance to him in this sweet moment. He does not want to be a butler anymore. He only wants her.

He dives his head down to finally take one of her pert pink nipples into his mouth, dragging it in – devouring its pleasure. Deep. She gasps and feels his silk necktie slide off her shoulder and brush with a shiver down her arm as it falls to the floor. She threads her fine fingers heavily through his hair once again to press him closer as her head drops back and her hips undulate of their own accord. It is everything. Everything. …And so much more than he ever dreamed of. He closes his eyes in bliss and even without sight, he feels like his head will still explode from delight at all the sensations that assail him- the taste of her, the feel of her –sweet and salty and smelling of floral sweat and the musk of her and the love that they have already made- and then the softness of her pale skin pillowing the hard bud that he rolls around and around with his tongue, reminding him of that other treasure he had just found and tasted and that had already overwhelmed his senses with the essence of her. And her moaning voice, calling out to him in that shallow breathy way that rolls the 'r' in hot purring contentment. The tones that he knows, well he thinks he knows, have only ever sounded that way with him and it all makes him feel indescribably proud. And then he foggily makes his way over to the other breast because he desperately needs to know if it will feel different in his mouth- and it does! And he cannot fathom why that might be so, but he is immensely glad of it and that he has yet another glorious and nuanced sensation to explore upon her body.

He finally forces his eyes open to look up at her face- and smiles his lips around her nipple as he sees his name leaving her lust reddened lips once more. Then he sees the scar on the side of her right breast up close and a pang runs through his heart, even now, that she was hurt so cruelly by illness and a healing knife, but he wants her to know once more that it does not change his desire for her at all, so he looks up at her and catches her eye lovingly as he kisses into the divett, gently at first, and then he licks it lavishly and feels all of the different bumps of hard scars from the stitches of her pain upon his soothing tongue. She looks into his eyes with tender wonderment and thanks for him being the man he is, and she starts to truly enjoy the delightful feelings that she did not know could be present in that part of her body anymore. It is a revelation. She glories in his touch all over again, her eyes closing blissfully, head rolling back again in pleasure, exposing the long and elegant expanse of her neck to him and he finds he needs that under his tongue as well.

His thumbs and fingers play around her stiffened buds once again, rolling their hardness between them, then he makes her gasp as he licks a long, hot, wet path over her breast to the dip between her collar bone where he feels her fluttering pulse, light and fast. _'Like a small rabbit's,'_ his mind strangely thinks- her heart's song – _'hold it gently, Charles.'-_ and he kisses softly and reverently into the hollow of her neck.

She moans and it draws him further up her neck, licking and kissing as much of it as he can with opened mouth, and her sighs are getting louder and her grip on his hair has strengthened and he knows that this is good…so very good. Then he finds it! A spot just below her right ear that makes her throat rumble with a guttural cry and she calls out her affirmation.

"Yes! Yesss….Charles…oohh…" hot and sensuous.

So he sucks that place into his mouth too, lightly, insistently, and her groans just deepen and she is like a wonderful puzzle that he keeps finding new and colourful pieces of and he is able to fit them easily into place around himself and the picture that it makes is beautiful… and then he wonders if the other side of her neck has a piece just like that, so he leaves that point and she moans her disappointment. Then he runs his hungry tongue around the base of her jaw, while she fumbles under the back of his waistcoat collar and releases some of the shirt buttons sitting at his spine. He brushes soft kisses over her chin and goes searching for that other spot that makes her sigh and grind against him so. It is heaven, he can smell her skin and her hair all around his face and he finally moves his hands from the nipples he has been rubbing and rolling and takes them back up to her glorious hair, to wind that other magnificent bounty around his fingers and wrists. And then he finds it- the spot on the other side of her neck, higher on this side, and she is delightful and he can feel the heat rising in her neck, prickling under his tongue and he follows its path instinctively up to her ear lobe, then sucks that into his mouth too. She groans again. Long. He feels the finest of downy hair tickling his tongue. There is just so much wonder in even the smallest part of her and he finds that he needs to see all of her again, he lets his thumbs keep tracing circles at those special places on her neck and he draws his head back to gaze at his lovely wife who is blissfully rolling her head back into his supporting fingers at her nape. Her mouth is slightly ajar, and he just wants to kiss that again too and he can- he is allowed to- and so he does and it is beautiful all over again.

There is just so much of her to see and feel and it is all so wonderful and he cannot take it all in. His brain is fevered and his movements lost in the chase of pure new sensation. He hasn't noticed that she has finally managed to still his hands long enough at the sides of her face to be able to pull out his cuff links. And then it slowly dawns on him that she has freed his head from her fierce grasp, and so he pulls back from their kiss in some small wonder. _How could she manage those cufflinks while we were kissing like that?_ His mind is a puddle of clouded insights. But it does not matter anymore because her fine fingers have put the links into his waistcoat pocket, in with his watch, and her hands are pushing under the opening of his starch front and exploring his chest and he just stops to gaze at her eyes as she enjoys him and he tries to catch his breath.

She has pushed his shirt, along with his pristine white braces, outwards around the edges of his shoulders and it bunches around his upper arms, constricting his movement a little. This pleases Elsie in this moment, because, what with him ravishing her the way that he has been, she has not really come any closer to the 'more of him' she had adamantly called for. She is still the only one naked in their exchange and it is driving her to blissful but frustrated distraction. But now his strong upper arms are rippling against the tight edges of the remains of his blessed uniform and she is taking her time to revel in the breaking down of the butler into the fine lover she has dreamt of. He is so charming and still commanding in his size and passion for her, but there is also something adorable and confused and innocent about him now that he is rendered immobile in the middle of his desire for her.

He frets as his hands can only play lightly about her hips as she smooths her hands slowly and firmly over his chest, feeling the fine silver hairs running past the sides of her exploring fingers. His skin is hot and dry and the muscles under his collarbones are tight as he pushes uselessly against the restriction of his shirt. She slides her fingers out across each clavicle and curves them down until she finds his flat nipples. They are much lower down and more out to the sides than she had expected. They are delightfully silky compared with the fine ridged strands of the chest hairs that surround them. Her eyes are wide with wonder at the sensations she is discovering and she circles her fine fingertips around the nipples and they start to stiffen. She did not realise they would do the same things as hers do! He groans and she feels the vibration in his lower ribs rumble against her own hardened nipples that press into his exposed skin. "Mmmm" the sound escaping her own mouth feeds her desire and she wants to taste his skin again, she leans in and starts to kiss his hard chest and follows a path around to where her fingertip circles one of the silken nubs. She looks intently at their darker brownish colour then places her open mouth lightly about one of them, breathing hot sultry air onto it, making Charles squirm and moan, before her tongue darts out to feel its soft peak with the pointed tip of her tongue.

"Els-siee" he hisses and his head falls back against the wall behind him.

She is delighted with his response and the sound of her name said _that_ way, and the feel of the nipple under her tongue is just too much and she starts lapping at it like a kitten at a cream dish. He is beautiful. She feels her core throbbing with heat and she simply must taste the other one too. He is breathing in short gasps now, repeating her name over and over and she does not want him to stop, _she_ does not want to stop. But his waist coat is slipping further down his arms and she must stop to help it all the way off. She does not want their treasured six-pence to fall from the pocket and roll away, so she takes the vest and folds its shoulder seams back on themselves and places it carefully on the floor to their side.

Having briefly stepped away from his hands at her hips he looks utterly bereft, so she returns to him quickly, sliding her arms under his and wrapping them tightly around his waist where she finally plays them across his firm buttocks, squeezing them tightly and pulling his hips and his hardness towards her as she grinds against him. His breath escapes him in quite a high-pitched start. She digs her nails into his fleshy muscles through the back of his trousers, as she revels in the sight of him with his head thrown back and groaning her name like the prayer of a dying man to his maker. Then she moves to play her fingers underneath the back of his trouser to work at the buttons and loop fasteners of his braces. They spring loose, and he sighs –low. She feels his hardness press closer to her belly again as some of the restriction from his pants is released. It is a little shocking to register more fully its weight and rigidity, but Elsie finds it incredibly exciting too. She cannot help herself, she feels wanton and rolls her lower belly against it again, feeling the heat flame higher in her core. But she finds that she simply needs to know its size more clearly with her own hands and so she runs her hands firmly around to the front of his waist band, but still a _little_ tentatively as she is not sure if Charles will approve of her brazenness- but his arms are still trapped by his shirt, so he cannot refuse either. Looking into his darkened eyes, worrying her lip with her teeth, he is breathing heavily and looking at her with rapt attention as her hand slowly drops to the front of his trousers and she feathers her fingertips lightly over the top of the obvious bulge there.

He whimpers and breathes out- "Dear God, Elsie…"

It is all the permission she needs. She presses her hand more firmly and slides along the length of him- it sits off to the side and she knows he must be very uncomfortable trapped inside his shorts, and even with her own growing fascination, that in itself is enough to make her want to continue- closer.

He tries to grip at her hips more tightly but he cannot quite reach them as her hands flutter lightly over him as she undoes all the buttons of his trousers and pulls the tails of his shirt up, bunching them above his belly and bending briefly to rain light kisses over it, for she loves this softness about him too, like it is his kind heart proudly showing itself to the world in the form of a huge pillow of cuddliness. She runs her hands broadly in light caresses over his stomach and it contrasts so much from the hardness she had just been exploring. A man of infinite contradictions and loveliness is her Charles!

Her hands slide back down the straps of his loosened braces that sit at odd angles across his bared flesh. They both breathe in sharply as she threads one of her hands into the opening of his trousers and she feels his hardness again, now separated only by the cotton of his undershorts. He jumps a little beneath her fingers and it is beguiling to her, she experiments with gripping around it, and he releases a shuddering sigh that sounds like the one he made that day at the beach when the cold water first washed over his tired feet. She smiles broadly at the memory, and that he is so desperately unsteady in her hands once more, but in such a new and completely wonderful way- and that he still trusts her implicitly. She wants to know more…She knows she _wants_ more.

Quickly, she pulls the drawstring of his undershorts and then works to undo the buttons of his braces at the front of his trousers. She pulls the straps away from where they have sat around his torso and trapped arms, dropping them to the floor with the other pieces of his livery. She delights in seeing all this messy detritus of their loving strewn around them as that part of her _new_ Mr Carson falls away; and yet, she is still incredibly aroused by the fact that enough of that Downton restraint is holding him together in rigid pleasurable torment under her hands. For Elsie she knows that he is more than capable of tearing at the seams of the shirt to free his arms, but he is still too gentle and reserved to do it, and it all speaks to her of his complete trust in her ability to please him. And of course there is every sign on him that she is doing just that!

Then, with a suddenness that surprises both of them, Elsie pushes down his shorts and trousers in one sweeping motion and he impressively springs free.

"Hunhh! Elsie… love…"

Charles' arms are still trapped by his shirt and his head is lolling from side to side, not quite knowing what to do or where to look. Elsie has a look of joy and wonderment on her face that he had never expected and he is proud, but lost and shy too, and more frantically aroused than he has ever been before in his life- and he cannot reach her at all, for she has stepped back to gaze lovingly upon him. And she isn't shocked at all by the sight of him. She just licks along her bottom lip as her eyes darken lustfully. _God! I love her!_ Charles mind screams in that moment, but his throat and lips cannot shape it into coherent sound and he just whimpers his need for her to touch him again.

Elsie's mind is lucid and she sees that the skin of his lovely excitement is darker than she imagined and again there is a startling contrast in this to his soft white belly… And it is large, in its current state, yes, but she believes it suits her man rather admirably. To her, it appears as a most beautiful and wondrous gift- mysterious and sleek in its hardness and design- a secret for her alone to share with her man and it is, really, quite delightful! Her hands are drawn to touch her new prize and her fingertips dust along one side of it- feather soft. It is so warm, and silky. Charles breathes out her name again as it jerks about at her the contact. Feeling bolder, her fingers curl all the way around it, in a light grip, at first, and as Charles groans deeply she feels it more firmly and squeezes to test its quite amazing hardness under all that taut and silky skin. Charles is puffing erratic breaths out of his flaring nostrils, trying desperately to hold on, he wants to hold on for her, but he is so close to losing control just at the sight of her fine fingers around him- it is a torturous dream.

There is a heady musk of his heated skin and soap and strong manliness that rises gently between them- another stark contrast, it seems, to the fast, blood pounding feelings that exist between them in this moment. The scent assails Elsie's senses as she drops deeper into the lovely haze of him. Elsie has never heard talk of such a thing, but she thinks of what Charles has done for her already this evening, and the practical side of her realises that it must be something that can be done for men too, and in her love thrummed state he really does look quite delicious, and she wants to feel what that silky skin is actually like under the softness of her kisses. She loves her whole man, and wants this part of him too and so she bends closer to him.

Somehow Charles registers what she is about to do and he frantically tells her "No Elsie, you don't have too…" even though every other fibre in his being is willing it to happen _just_ like that.

"It is lovely, Charles, I want to"

"But I can't Elsie…I can't hold back for you…I want to.. I want… Ah-uh!" He gasps as her hands stroke his length, pulling the pliant skin back and forth along his length and this feature is delightful to her too- long and slow. Somehow he manages to move against his tethering shirt and put his forearms to her slightly lowered shoulders.

He sounds shattered "I want you… I want you _so_ much Elsie…Please.."

Elsie is only too aware of his dilemma. "It's all right, Charles," she looks right into his frantic eyes and soothes him with her low purring brogue, "I love you, so _very_ much, you cannot know..." And then firmly, "And we  will _make_ world enough and time- for _everything_ \- we will, I promise. It's alright, I want this- freely. Please let me...let me love you too, _a chagair_ "

 _Oh God!- That word_. He doesn't know what it means yet, but it means everything to him. His mind is whirling and for some reason his eyes are pricking with tears of incredible tenderness for his wife, even as he bucks harder than ever into her hand and groans out his animal need loud into the small dressing room.

He is magnificent and she bends lower, inhaling his hot scent deeply, it is so exciting and she feel the sweet longing for him in her secret place- flowing hot from deep within her and her muscles there are stirring tightly now, almost painfully, with need, but his pleasure now is what she wants to see.

As she gets closer her hair brushes against his length and it just too much for Charles- _Not her beautiful hair!-_ it is like silk wine being poured down a parched man's throat- desperately wanted but not quite the quenching water he needs to survive, but he wants it all the same and this conflict of his mind and body, his needs and wants just feeds his desire for more of what she is offering and his body is overwhelmed by the touch of just her soft fingers and a few strands of that delightful veil of hair, and then _Oh Gods!_ She is kissing lightly across his length and it is just too, too much! More than he had ever seen in his dreams- better than he could ever possibly have imagined. Eye's glazed and slack-jawed, - but with blood pounding up through his neck that is clenched taut- The sight in the mirror, of Elsie's bent before him, loving him reverently and her hair hanging down so he cannot even see what is happening- there is only the feel of her as her hot wet tongue runs a pattern along his length so close to his painfully throbbing tip. Everything is rising fast and agonisingly hot within him and he cannot hold back. He just can't. He tries frenziedly to move her away with his hands and arms that are trapped and which he could not possibly coordinate even if they weren't. He does not want to do this onto her like this, he does not know if she realises what will happen, but he cannot get his hands to work and as she feels him erratically pushing at her, trying to distance himself, her resolve just deepens and she willingly takes his shining moisture slicked end between her lips and gives it a long languorous and rolling lick. And he is gone. Sharp and high he yelps.

"Noo! OH God! God! Els! Els! Hunh! nuh! Aaargh!"

He knows, in that mad moment, that he should pull away from her- protect her, but his body's need is so much stronger than any control he once had. He jolts hard towards her as he surges uncontrollably and his heat explodes into her liquid kiss. Cutting briefly through his bliss he thinks, blindly, ' _Oh Thank God my knees have buckled!'_ for it means he has fallen from her mouth and face as he continues to shudder erratically as more of his hot seed spills out. But then he sees it streaming white onto her blushed chest and drops of it are rolling over the curve of her ample breasts and it is so exquisitely erotic and beautiful and her fingertips have curled underneath to stroke the weight of him, so lightly and he feels another hard spasm grip his whole body- every muscle and fibre- as his whole being tries to give her even more of himself.

' _Oh! God! Oh God! YES! Els…Yeess!'_

Then his swollen end brushes against the softness of her breast and he roars incoherently his love and pained delight to her, whimpering and panting to his end.

Her eyes had widened in surprise at the sudden liquid heat that had shot so forcefully into her mouth and she reflexively retracted from him, yet she still holds some of this new gift carefully in her mouth for the moment. _What treasure is this?_ It tastes salty and thick and sweet and she thinks unaccountably of the smell and residue left on fine cotton when he decants a red wine. There seems so much of it pouring from her growling and frantic man as he judders uncontrollably towards her. The opaque stream hits searing wet heat onto her chest as he slides down the wall. She is quite in awe of the power of his pleasure. She never knew it could be like this and she is wide-eyed with wonder at it all and cannot keep a huge smile from rising on her face. Her hand still grips hard to him and she can feel every pulse rise up through him powerfully and she lightly strokes the contracting underside of his quivering rounded weight " _Oh a chagair! My man!"_ She groans her approval loudly along with his roaring pleasure. He is magnificently laid bare before her and she feels such extreme fondness for this man who trusts her enough to let her see him so completely undone in this way.

She follows his body as it collapses down the walls in his release, and then straddles herself over his lap , leaning her body into him, with her forehead resting against his heaving collarbone and snaking her hands up to hold the sides of his great and slowly lolling head. His hands have collapsed, palms uppermost on the floor near his thighs and his slackened legs and feet roll outwards, still trapped in his trousers bunched around his dress shoes.

"Elsie… Elsie… I'm so sorry… I..." he is panting and his words sound fractured.

"Oh, my Charles, my man. Don't. Please don't. It was beautiful, and you are wonderful." And looking up, she holds his head still so that he must look her straight in the eyes and know that she is telling him the truth. And slowly his fear of disappointing her, of bungling it all up for her, of maybe scaring her or disgusting her with his uncontrollable and messy body disappears and he smiles sheepishly at her bright and smiling and loving face from beneath his heavy brows.

"That's better" she soothes

With a sudden flash of clear thought, Charles realises that he should offer Elsie his handkerchief to clean the residue of him from her skin, but his arms are uselessly limp and still trapped, and his top coat is crumpled up beneath him… and then he sees that Elsie has leant against his shirt anyway, and he giggles fiendishly at his efforts, forgetting that he would normally feel utterly ashamed.

"I think the valet service might have a time fixing up my livery in time for our dinner tomorrow, love."

"Today, don't you mean, Charles? The hour is getting late. Anyway, I am sure they have fixed up worse messes in a hotel like this before. I know I have seen my share in the laundry at Downton."

Charles cannot help but look aghast at this revelation about her duties for the family over the years, but her smile is wicked and bright and he cannot hold in his mirth about it all and starts grinning like a blissful fool once again.

"Oh Elsie. My love." And he kisses her firmly on the lips, his hands now under enough of his command to be able to squeeze her about her lovely fleshy hips.

"Hmmm." She sighs her pleasure against his mouth, then asks seriously, "Mr Carson, do you think perchance you could finally take your wife to our conjugal bed?"

He looks pleased and comically bereft at the same time, for as he casts his eyes through the dressing room doorway to their room, and the luxurious bed beyond it all seems an inordinately long way away.

"Oh, Els… Remind me of the etiquette- Would it be _terribly_ undignified for a Butler, if I were to just crawl there?"

She laughs heartily and tells him, "I am afraid it would be, Mr Carson, for I'll not have any man o' mine feeling he needs to crawl his way into my arms of a night." And she kisses him firmly and lovingly on the lips before lifting his soiled shirt up over his head and tossing it aside. Then she shuffles back down his legs to take off his shiny black shoes and remove the rest of his rumpled clothes from around his ankles.

"Come on" she smiles brightly as she stands and offers him her supporting hand.

She is towering tall and gracefully, and so beautifully naked, above him and her supple warm flesh is beckoning him again. He reaches up to her, glad as he has ever been for her steady hand to hold.

CECECECECE

 **Oh, but wait… there is more!…. ;)**

 **TBC**

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N 3:** **When Elsie cuts off Charles at the start of this fiction, he was starting to quote Othello (Act 2 Scene 1, lines 174-5), from when Othello is rhapsodising about Desdemona. Here is the full verse! ... Just because I could ! :P**

 _OTHELLO_

 _It gives me wonder great as my content_

 _To see you here before me. Oh, my soul's joy!_

 _If after every tempest come such calms,_

 _May the winds blow till they have wakened death,_

 _And let t_ he laboring _bark climb hills of seas_

 _Olympus-high, and duck again as low_

 _As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,_

 _'Twere now to be most happy, for I fear_

 _My soul hath her content so absolute_

 _That not another comfort like to this_

 _Succeeds in unknown fate._

 _* Othello Act 2 Scene 1 lines 168-178_

 _CECECECECE_

 **A/N 4:** **The amazingly thorough blog site _Vintage Dancer_** **has been integral to understanding wardrobe and grooming peculiarities of the 1920s. I wish I had found it earlier, as I had mentioned that Charles put on cologne prior to heading out to the theatre in** _ **Chapter 11- Preparations,**_ **but in fact, men did not take this up widely until the 1950s and 60s. Prior to that it was just plain soap/shaving soaps and generally clean manliness that accounted for their scent. Sounds yummy to me really! You see, I do like to be accurate!... But some things need modifying so it sounds better in writing.**

 **In the last chapter the vintage dancer blog helped with info about ladies undergarments- of which Elsie was gifted something that was non-standard, but still available- the pair of high cut briefs to go with a brassiere. Normally knickers were a bit more of an all in one affair with snap fasteners between the legs (for bathroom hygiene purposes)- and of course, the young flappers were actually using bindings/ bands to flatten their figures, rather than supportive bras or the like. But I think I struck a reasonable and high-class option for an older fuller figured woman who has been spoiled rotten for once in her life.**

 **For this chapter, _Vintage Dancer_ helped with what I needed to know about men's dress shirts and detachable collars and the like. I decided not to mention sock garters or the one piece 'union' underwear that would have been most common for men in the 1920s in this chapter... not very racy, or convenient enough for the transpiring events of this chapter- IMHO! Cotton boxers, as we now know them, made an appearance in the late 1920s, but I have made Charles as a bit of a trendsetter here, by having them in 1926- I compromised and put them with a drawstring rather than buttons as it seemed a reasonable throwback to men's undergarments of the previous 100 years (Drawers) that were what many men went with throughout most of the 1920s. **

**In order to be completely in tune with the 1926 setting in this fiction, I have been searching the online etymology dictionary for various things too. It turns out that words like underpants and briefs were not used until the early 1930s. However, I personally find that the words knickers and drawers (and 'bra' and 'bum'!) have very jarring sounds to read and quite mood destroying/ off-putting in erotic fiction. So I have chosen words like briefs and undershorts as easier on the ears. Pedantic aren't I ! All sounds like a rangeof double entendres from an old _Carry On_ movie!**

 **Anyway, l hope this little erotic fic worked well enough for all you lovely readers out there.**

 **Next up : Chelsie finally stumbles into bed at the end of what has been a very long wedding day filled with fun and love and a few chuckles for our pair of old Galapagos Boobies :)**

 **BorneToFlow**


	21. Chapter 21- The Air That I Breathe

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 21- The Air That I Breathe**

 **A/N 1 :** **Thank you for the lovely reviews. I am surprised, as always, that my writing hits the right nerves- so to speak!**

 **Manygreentrees, in particular, (my thanks to you), has made me think about how to continue with this night of passion for our old Galapagos Boobies in a way that is** _ **fairly**_ **realistic, but can still see them with enough energy to face the demands of the outing I have mercilessly planned for them on Sunday!- the gallery and the high tea etc.**

 **It has indeed been a long day for our heroes. I do think they are used to disrupted and shortened sleep patterns, with their working day likely hitting the 16 hour mark on most days at the Abbey, and generally 7 days a week (according to some searching around I did about the realities of life in service- no wonder they took so _bloody_ long to notice each other and fall in love!). But, Manygreentrees is right in saying that the unusual nature of their day- emotionally strung out from the wedding, long travel times, the press of people in the city, the excitement of going to the show, the constant tension of flirting, etc.- would all prove quite tiring – and, they are not 25 years old anymore.**

 **I have so far tried so far to imagine what is physically possible at this age, especially with regards to them having been sexually repressed for sooo, sooo long, whilst still fulfilling my own fantasies about how such things should play out. This is what I was thinking of when I wrote of Elsie's instant reaction to finally being touched, and Charles' sudden and intense release in Chapter 20. I just don't think they could have held back for long in any sort of circumstances! And as much as we all want Charles to recover quickly, for both their sakes, it is not really that realistic after such an intense finish for a 70-year-old man- bless him! So, all that said and done- this is what I came up with….**

 **A/N 2:** **My musical influence when writing this is an anachronistic choice, but do go and listen to it to get in the mood. It is the song used as the chapter title, because I couldn't think of anything better to put there- a bit lazy, but ..meh!**

 **Potentially** _ **The Air that I Breathe**_ **can be incredibly schmoozy- and indeed the original version by Albert Hammond (1972)and the most well-known cover by The Hollies (1974) both get into a bit of anthemic 70s soft rock guitar solo stuff and soar quite close to utter schmooze-dome. I think Albert Hammond's is the better version, but his voice just is not strong enough to reach the notes he has written, even if the emotion is there. There is a pretty good version on Youtube with him and Leo Sayer giving it a good go, though. Many other covers have been done too.**

 **But for my money, almost nobody else on the planet can take a song that she hasn't written and totally own it and make it into something it was always meant to be – so go and listen to this remastered version by K.D. Lang - from the** _ **Recollection**_ **album (2010)- originally done for the … album** _ **Drag**_ **) on Spotify or this link on Youtube- watch?v=2V2PW4N-4OM**

 **It is incomparable- IMHO. The music stays slow and dreamy and loved-out and languid throughout, and it goes for 6 minutes instead of the ubiquitous 3-4 minute radio friendly pop song- which makes all the difference as you have time to really get into it. Most importantly, K.D.'s vocals soar to just the right level at the right times. Let it play in your ears as you drift off to sleep tonight- it is heavenly, and I hope you can envision both Charles or Elsie feeling this at the end of this night. I will have them in the land of Nod by about 2 am, by my rough reckoning.**

 **Enjoy**

 **BorneToFlow.**

 **CECECECECE**

 **From Chapter 20- Undone**

 _With a sudden flash of clear thought, Charles realises that he should offer Elsie his handkerchief to clean the residue of him from her skin, but his arms are uselessly limp and still trapped, and his top coat is crumpled up beneath him… and then he sees that Elsie has leant against his shirt anyway, and he giggles fiendishly at his efforts, forgetting that he would normally feel utterly ashamed._

 _"I think the valet service might have a time fixing up my livery in time for our dinner tomorrow, Love."_

 _"Today, don't you mean, Charles? The hour is getting late. Anyway, I am sure they have fixed up worse messes in a hotel like this before. I know I have seen my share in the laundry at Downton."_

 _Charles cannot help but look aghast at this revelation about her duties for the family over the years, but her smile is wicked and bright, and he cannot hold in his mirth about it all and starts grinning like a blissful fool once again._

 _"Oh,_ _Elsie. My love." And he kisses her firmly on the lips, his hands now under enough of his command to be able to squeeze her about her lovely fleshy hips._

 _"Hmmm." She sighs her pleasure against his mouth, then asks seriously, "Mr Carson, do you think perchance you could finally take your wife to our conjugal bed?"_

 _He looks pleased and comically bereft at the same time, for as he casts his eyes through the dressing room doorway to their room, and the luxurious bed beyond- it all seems an inordinately long way away._

 _"Oh, Els… Remind me of the etiquette- Would it be_ _terribly_ _undignified for a Butler if I were to just crawl there?"_

 _She laughs heartily and tells him, "I am afraid it would be Mr Carson, for I'll not have any man o'_ _mine_ _feeling he needs to crawl his way into my arms of a night." And she kisses him firmly and lovingly on the lips before lifting his soiled shirt up over his head and tossing it aside. Then she shuffles back down his legs to take off his shiny black shoes and remove the rest of his rumpled clothes from around his ankles._

 _"Come on" she smiles brightly as she stands and offers him her supporting hand._

 _She is towering tall and gracefully, and so beautifully naked, above him and her supple warm flesh is beckoning him again. He reaches up to her, glad as he has ever been for her steady hand to hold._

 _ **CECECECECE**_

 **Chapter 21- The Air That I Breathe**

The maids have turned down the bed in their suite, and Elsie supports her exhausted man back to it, where he falls ingloriously backwards across it, pulling her down on top of him with his momentum. Gleeful laughter overtakes them both again for a moment. Elsie's head is resting on his broad chest, and her hair is splayed out over him, fulfilling his long-held dream. One hand comes up to stroke its silkiness while his other languorously circles random patterns over her back and they sigh in mutual satisfaction. Elsie lifts her head and shuffles up to kiss him again on his tender and loving lips, and Charles finds himself ensconced in his other dream of having her veil him with her silken hair, making a private world of love and sensuality that houses them alone.

But soon certain needs overtake their blissful togetherness, and Elsie pushes herself up from him. Far too soon for his liking, and he looks confusedly at her.

"I'm sorry Charles, I will be right back, don't go anywhere."

"I couldn't possibly move, even if I were dumb enough to want to, my love."

"I know, but you should at least try to rest the right way around. Come on, why don't you lean up against the pillows. I am going to sort your clothes a bit for the valet in the morning. I will leave a note outside the door to inform the floor butler. And I could do with a glass of water. I will bring you one."

"Grmph", he moans in disappointment at losing contact with her, even for a short time, although the water will be most welcome, and the thought that Elsie will sort it so that his livery won't be _too_ embarrassing to hand onto the staff does put his mind at ease. He relinquishes his grip on her and decides to lean up on his elbow to enjoy watching her lovely naked and full hips move in that special way as she crosses back over to her dressing room and bathroom beyond.

Elsie sees to cleaning up his suit a little, and herself, in the bathroom. She slips on a light cotton nightdress, as she is starting to feel the night chill a little. It is new but simple, and the embellishments around the neckline are a series of little blue cornflowers that she had carefully stitched herself. She smiles at how the action of sewing these each night in the lead up to their wedding had given her too much time to dwell on her fears for how she could possibly please Charles. But now she is in absolutely no doubt- tonight has been more wonderful than she could have ever hoped, not to mention ...different- and very surprising! _Quite unforgettable_ , she muses to herself as she quickly works her hair into a braid again. She really does feel like a new and more confident woman, who now has a very passionate and attentive lover to share her life with. She feels giddy and happy about it all over again.

Before too long she returns to Charles with a glass of water, having already filled and drained it twice for herself. _The dear man!_ He looks so disappointed that she has covered herself up- _Bless him!_ Even though, from where she sees him, he is still in no fit state to do much about changing that fact. Besides which, Elsie suddenly feels ravenously hungry, for they last ate at around half past six that night, and they have been quite busy and active in the interim- to say the very least! She turns to the sideboard where a drinks tray and a fruit bowl is set and retrieves a small knife and a plate to peel and cut up some apples.

Charles catches the glint of the knife in her hand and blanches somewhat.

"Good God, woman! What have I done now?... Do you always bring sharp weapons to your bed?!"

Oh, he makes her laugh so!

"Oh Charles, you duffer, I am just very hungry. Aren't you? I know we are used to long hours at the Abbey, but today has been uncommonly late … and, shall we say… active, even for the likes of us" She grins at him wickedly. "Would you like some?"

"Oh you know I do" he growls low, placing the glass aside "…but only if you take that nightdress off again and come and sit here" and he pats the space he has made between his legs on the bed, as he leans up against a stack of fluffy pillows at the headboard.

She purposely ignores his suggestiveness, even though it pleases her no end. "But Charles, I am feeling the night air a bit."

"Well, I will just have to keep you warm, my dear. Come on, Love; I am not willing to give up these new pleasures _quite_ so quickly." And he asks quietly, "Will you take it off…please?"

He feigns an overly forlorn look which makes her smile again. _He really does know how to put on a show!_ she thinks. But she cannot deny that being able to sit so close to his warm bulk, touching his skin is a very inviting prospect. So she hands him the vittles she has collected and crosses her arms over her front to grip the fabric and pull the nightdress off over her head. She never realised that something so simple, something she has done every day of her life since she was young, could give such pleasure to him now- and at her age! He smiles and hums his appreciation as she unveils herself before him once more. Then she goes to sit between his splayed legs, pulling the covers up over them as she rests her back against his chest with a contented sigh. He draws his knees up to support her in place. It is all so new- being able to share these simple intimacies, and she wonders how she could have lived such a contented life before this point. And yet she has, she realises, even though it has been endless hours of hard work. She has always been happy at Downton. But now, life is just so much richer with Charles to share everything so closely with.

He hands the plate back to her and wraps his arms securely around her waist, stroking the sides of her tummy and hips with firm fingers, and resting his chin over her shoulder to giving her a brief kiss on her cheek. She leans more heavily into him, savouring the security and warmth of his soft belly and his large gentle hands and arms. Her very own cuddly bear- she has never had one- not even as a child. And thinking of this new gift makes her smile all over again.

"I don't think I have ever smiled so much in a single day, my love," she hums contentedly.

"Hmmm," he sighs his sleepy agreement, "I love to see you smile, it makes me feel so happy inside."

Elsie smiles for the love of him again and begins expertly peeling one of the apples into her hands. He watches her dexterous fingers with fascination and with delight in memory of how they have already brought him so much pleasure tonight. She manages to take the skin off in one long coil, dropping it to the plate.

"I'll eat that- I like the skin."

She hands the end of it up to his waiting mouth and he lazily starts chewing it in steady increments.

She cannot help from giggling again. "You sound like a noisy horse, Charles" she scoffs as he snuffles and crunches near her ear.

He makes an over the top show of crunching right near her ear, and the sound and his tickling breath makes her giggle again and shiver away from his head. He follows and places another kiss on her neck, right under the curve of her jaw, feeling it move steadily as she eats her own slice of apple.

"I like your skin too," he mumbles against her warmth.

"Mmm…me too," she moans her approval, for she does feel very comfortable in her own skin, and her response answers for her thoughts about his lovely skin. "Here- have another piece" she offers.

He releases a long, resigned sigh, nibbling the slice from her fingertips and talking around it, "Hmmph. If only, my love- yet, unfortunately, the spirit is indeed more than willing, but the flesh is weak."*

"I rather think you have misconstrued the biblical intent of that little passage, Charles!" she replies with mirth.

"Oh! Those are fine words indeed, coming from the temptress feeding me an apple in bed!"

"Oomph!" he groans in mock pain as sShe pushes her elbow sharply into his ribs and chuckles happily again.

She never thought she could share so much gentle humour with him. Another restriction of their lives in service seems to be slackening and dropping away. It is a lovely innocent pleasure to feel so relaxed in his company- finally.

"Well, anyway, I will be sure to send up a prayer of thanks for all of _man_ kind the next time I am in church for the amazing foresight of that woman."

She snuffs out a small laugh "Oh Charles, you really are incorrigible."

"I certainly hope so, my dear, "

They continue in this way, Elsie feeding fine summer fruit up to her man, slowly making their way through two apples, nuzzling and sharing sweet kisses in between slices. Feeling fulfilled and dozy, Charles' fingertips continue lazily caressing over her sides and tummy. For Elsie, the warmth in her core that has never fully dissipated since they made it out of the dressing room to the bed is rekindling and sighs of more than just enjoyment over their shared meal reach Charles' love-fugged mind. He may not be in a fit state to take things further for himself, but he can surely see to it that his wife is ready to slip into the blissful slumber that his own body is fast headed towards.

Now finished with their repast, he takes the plate and knife from her hands and leans over sightly to place it on the bedside table, then he readjusts her body more closely up against his and starts to expand his slow exploration of her skin. She somehow makes him feel like he can do no wrong- even though everything he is doing tonight is a new experience for him. It is instinctive. Beyond conscious reasoning, and the only thing he is reading clearly are the sure signs that appear on her body before him. He follows them assiduously.

She is heavy and sleepy, and slack muscled beneath his wandering hands. But as he brushes lightly over her in sweeping motions she rises- with a certain inevitability, it seems- in slow rolling waves towards his touch. _She is just so precious_.

He sees her skin ripple down the lengths of her sides, following the paths of his fingers and she moans in that heavenly way she has. He could watch her like this all day and live ever after without any want for heaven again when he dies.

His hands begin to slowly circle and gently knead at her breasts as he leans over to suckle at one of those magical places on her neck. Her hips roll sinuously between his thighs as that deep groan he was searching for rises from her throat once more. As he plays with her hardened nipples, her breathing becomes heavier and shorter, and her hips roll more insistently upwards. He knows that she will not be long, so he ghosts one of his hands down her soft tummy, circling her navel lightly before dropping lower and brushing against her secret curls. She mewls softly and tries to angle to reach his hand, to have him where she needs him right now. He does not make her wait. His fingers trail through that soft hair and then briefly trace up and down where her legs meet her promised heat. Her head is lolling back against his shoulder, exposing more of her neck to his tongue's ministrations. She is breathing in shallow gasps through her open mouth as he keeps nuzzling and licking her neck. Her arm has snaked up to hold his head closer to her neck, and it makes her body stretch out long and taut and smooth. A harder tweak of the nipple still in his fingers makes her hips buck a little, and he boldly slides his gentle fingers into her valley to feel her wet warmth. Silk.

He slowly traces his middle finger up and down her outer folds, exploring softly all that delicate skin he had felt so lushly on his tongue earlier. It is still all a wondrous mystery to him. He finds that secret pearl that gives her so much pleasure, and he runs languorously around it, making her press her soft mound up firmly up into his open palm. _So delightful._ He concentrates his attentions on it as her groans increase slightly in volume, but they are still languid and slow. He feels her releasing slowly. More liquid warmth is flowing from her and his memory of its heady flavour- unlike anything he has ever known- makes him moan his approval at her pleasure against her neck. His sounds seem to feed her desire, and she rolls more insistently, arching delightfully into his hand as he traces lower and runs his gentle fingertip around her hot and pulsing opening. Slowly he slides a finger inside her as the base of his palm presses heavily down onto her mound. She rolls slightly and lets out a long sigh from her open lips by his ear, as her soft, undulating body seems to draw him further inside. So natural. So unforced. Such trust- letting him be within her. His heart is full. He brings his thumb over her swollen, quivering nub and he presses and makes gentle circles over it once more. She is surging in leisurely counterpoint to his slow rhythms now, looking for her own blissful frictions and he lets her find her way. She sighs high moans out over her breaths at every movement, drawing him into her pleasure, welcoming him into her body with so much of herself to give. He moves very slowly, but it does not take long. She rises- almost floating- towards her peak. He sees the blush of her gentle, rhythmic finish start to roll up her body like a languid sunrise over her whole skin as she shudders in long, gentle rills- a breeze dancing across the top of summer barley fields. _So beautiful- so very beautiful._ Calm, not frantic like before- wholly different but equally as entrancing. His wonder at her will never cease- that it could be so different for her this time. Finishing more like a lazy wave on the beach, at the end of a day- slowly groaning and sighing out the last heat of a searing bright day. She crests on a wave of pleasure that slowly rides taller as it comes into shore and then grows too heavy to hold its shape and it so it lollops over itself and is left spent upon the sand, before sliding away into blissful floating rest amongst the watery darkness of the night. His name- the last sigh of the day to leave her lips.

 _"Charles, a chagair...hmmm..."_

"Sleep, silent angel, go to sleep," he whispers into her ear.

Charles kisses her one last time upon her temple, switches of the bed lamp, and slides them over onto their sides, his hand still resting protectively between her thighs and enveloping her in all his warmth as they fall into dreamless, sated sleep.

 **CECECECECE**

* Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. (Matthew 26:41) **  
**

CECECECECE

 **Lyrics- _The Air That I Breathe- Albert Hammond- (1972)_**

 _ **If I could make a wish, I think I'd pass  
Can't think of anything I need  
No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound  
Nothing to eat, no books to read  
Making love with you  
Has left me peaceful warm and tired  
What more could I ask  
There's nothing left to be desired  
Peace came upon me, and it leaves me weak  
Sleep, silent angel go to sleep**_

 _ **Sometimes all I need  
Is the air that I breathe  
And to love you**_

 _ **Sometimes all I need  
Is the air that I breathe  
And to love you**_

 _ **Sometimes all I need  
Is the air that I breathe  
And to love you**_


	22. Chapter 22- An Irresistible Force

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 22- An Irresistible Force**

 **A/N 1:** **Ok… so, It has just occurred to me once more- that writing intricate details about the sexual activities of a couple of late middle-aged fictional characters is a** _ **rather**_ **unusual pastime… oh well – some people go indoor rock-climbing or do choreographed drowning … umm…I mean synchronised swimming… so each to their own, I guess!**

 **Suffice to say- this is NSFW**

 **\- ENJOY!**

 **BTW-** **thanks for all the lovely reviews for the last chapter, including all the guesties. I do find Chelsie dialogue trickier to come up with, but I am glad it pleases some readers out there when I do manage it. I imagine there will be much more dialogue in chapters regarding Sunday's outing to the gallery and their dinner- just not sure when they will get written- could be a long break as life and other writing truly does demand my attention. I am pleased to have barrelled through as much of this fic as I have, and I will at least leave you with the full 'biblical' consummation of the Chelsie marriage.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I don't own them or profit from them- But hey, JF, they damn well deserved this happiness- not the bloody raw lamb chops on a cold plate that we all got served up! OK… Rant over.**

 **Thanks for the dream characters anyway.**

 **Cheers,**

 **BorneTo Flow**

 **CECECECECE**

The muffled sounds of the bustling city slowly awakening seeps through the windows of their room. The curtains are heavy, but the growing light of the day begins to ring bright and cannot be withheld. Elsie stirs from her blissful slumber, and starts a little, not quite knowing where she is for a moment. Years of habit have woken her at the usual ungodly hour of the morning, but it is with inordinate relief that she realises she does not actually have to rouse herself to attend to the demands of others today. Charles is still wrapped warmly around her at her back, gloriously naked and lightly snoring near her ear. She has never felt so …at home. Secure. Loved. Very reluctantly, but ever so carefully, so as not to wake him, she shuffles out of Charles embrace. He snuffles slightly at the unconscious loss of her but remains sleeping.

She pads across the room to use the bathroom, and soon skips lightly and quickly back to their bed. The sight of Charles stops her short. _My Dear God,_ she thinks, _where did this wonderful poet-lover of mine come from?_ \- Remembering the beautiful way that Charles saw her off to sleep last night. And as she looks down at him, her heart is filled with love. Overjoyed at the beauty that fills her new life, she slips back under the covers, sidles back towards Charles and pulls one of his arms around her body again, snuggling back into the warmth her man and luxuriating happily beneath the thick and pillowy softness of the eiderdown. Even in his sleep, his arms instinctively tighten around Elsie. Peace comes upon her once more, and she soon slides back into an entirely uncommon second sleep.

CECECECECE

A couple of hours later, she is roused once again, this time by a soft and polite tap on their door and the delivery of their breakfast trolley by a room maid. Again, years of routine have attuned Elsie's ears to the quiet noises of a house's movements, based on her need to be ready for any occurrence at a moment's notice, and this morning it is no different for her it seems. Elsie silently motions for the maid to leave the trolley in the little foyer area, for she is now cognisant of an entirely new circumstance that she very much wants to keep to herself. The maid leaves silently, having collected Charles' tail suit for the valet cleaning service, locking the door behind her.

Elsie is now free to concentrate all her senses on Charles, who is stirring behind her, and she is definitely feeling something silken and firm pressing hot into the small of her back. An uncontrollable smile rises over her face as she realises he is drowsily snuffling awake, somewhere in between dreams and lucidity, and he is slowly and lightly rocking against her, quite unconsciously. _How divine! I wonder if this always happens for him, or is it only now… and with me?_ She smirks at the thought that this may be how he has woken most mornings of his life- over all of those years in his little attic room. And if it is- how did he…well… always appear so put together in the morning in the servant's hall? … or maybe that was why he always disdained too much frivolity at the breakfast table- he had too much to concentrate on already perhaps! She cannot stop a small giggle escaping her lips at her own wicked thoughts. She tentatively presses her back towards him. He hums contently in his foggy state, maybe thinking she is part of a dream he is having. Elsie decides that she simply must turn over to look upon her wonderful new husband- this new pleasure -her man in the morning – so close to her- just to see the look on his face as he fully awakens to their new life together. She carefully turns towards him, not wanting to wake him _just_ yet.

 _He is so very lovely_. So peaceful, with the ends of a pleasant dream still playing around his relaxed eyes. She cannot stop herself, his unruly hair! It has fallen about his forehead, and she has only really seen it that way a couple of dozen times in all these years together of times before. Such as when he has walked, sweat covered from a loss after a day on the village cricket field, or when he had to drag Thomas away from the pummelling William was giving that man in the servant's hall, or the night of dear Lady Sybil's death,… or, worse still, when she nearly lost him forever to the flu. Her heart still catches at the thought of that time, and she chews at the corner of her lip… But then, she remembers how he looked last night, in the dressing room after he had so beautifully made love to her and she realises that she can see this particularly lovely side of her man now attached to his hair when it is in this state, and she can build such wonderful memories around that instead. She smiles broadly at this- _how on earth will I keep these risqué thoughts from showing on my face at the yearly cricket match?!_ Elsie reaches up to curl her light fingers around and around that delightfully rakish forelock before slowly smoothing his silver hair back from his great forehead, no longer lined with the concerns of his role as butler in his current relaxed state- and so very beautiful in the morning light that filters past the edges of the damask curtains and splays in shards across their room.

Then- she just cannot help herself- his eyebrows are right there! Big and bushy and she smiles lovingly at how silly they are! They are ruffled all the wrong way, and she reaches up with both of her thumbs to smooth them back into place along his brows. _Perhaps he should use Brilliantine on them too!_ … _But that is wicked thinking again, Elsie…_ and in self-imposed penance, she stretches her neck up so that she may lovingly kiss each one of them in turn…. then she kisses him in between his brows… and then on the end of his nose.

He is smiling now, awake, but keeping his eyes closed as he enjoys the sensations of being woken up by his lovely and loving wife- just enjoying waking up and not being alone anymore. He hums with deep contentment.

"Good morning, Mrs Carson." He rumbles sleepily.

She does not answer- but presses her fingertip into the cleft of his chin, just as she had been planning to do – _it does fit there perfectly!-_ and then she leans in to kiss him gently on the lips.

He pulls her tighter into his embrace and returns the kiss. She tastes like warm apples in the sunshine, freshly picked from a tree,… and of sleep, …and of their loving… "Hmmm." Bliss.

His hands start roaming slowly up and down her supple, strong back, as her legs stretch down and one of her soft feet runs over the side of his calf- S _o close_ - _such a delight!_ Then she lifts her hands from his face, and he finally opens his eyes to see her stretch her arms and whole body long and unselfconsciously naked against him, yawning deeply and drawing the life of the new morning back into her glorious form. So relaxed in his arms- doing what she would normally do fully clothed and alone of a morning. Charles smiles with the sweet knowledge that only he will ever get to see this side of Elsie and her natural, private routines.

"Mmm…" she sighs contentedly, "Our breakfast trolley has arrived, my Love."

It sounds wonderful to Charles, but what is even better than that, he realises very quickly in this current position with her, is that one of Elsie's breasts has brushed very close to his chin, and with the just the slightest of movements, he is able to kiss across its softness and run his tongue languidly around her nipple, making her gasp in pleasant shock, almost recoiling from him. He smiles again.

"Hmm.. who needs breakfast when I already have manna from heaven in my arms."

He is full of endless praise for her it seems, and Elsie smiles once more for her beautiful lover and consciously stops herself from moving- for the wet slick of his tongue on her has driven a sudden spark of heat to her core. She decides to stay in her lithe and open position to let Charles take his time enjoying her body again, knowing and trusting, that he will bring her such immense pleasure again. She feels almost selfish about it- taking so much pleasure from him…almost… But Charles does begin to do just that, and it is to his own enduring delight as well.

"Mmm…" he sounds against her supple skin as he fully takes that beautiful bud into his mouth, and plays his tongue unhurriedly around it, nipping lightly with his lips covering his teeth, as she arches slightly towards him, sighing out her happiness to the day.

He rolls her gently away from him and lifts himself up on his elbow to gain more movement over her luxuriating, supine body, her arms still resting long above her head and her eyes gazing lovingly and expectantly at him. His free hand slides with increasing firmness over her soft belly and out to her hip, down her thigh, squeezing into the taut muscles there. He reaches down to the back of her knee and strokes her there with his fingertips and she balks a little and giggles as it tickles her. It makes him smile against her skin where he has started to move his mouth down her body, kissing the underside of her breast and then the curve of her lower ribs. Nerves ripple there beneath his kisses and he slowly follows their path to her sternum, kissing lavishly up and down the thin skin that covers her strong breast bone, feeling the beat of her heart beginning to race faster in her chest under the ministrations of his sensitive tongue. _Her skin tastes divine._

His eyes keep seeing the next wonder of her body that he wants to taste and kiss and he follows a path back up to that delicate skin in the hollow of her neck, where her pulse flutters and he can feel the heat of her love for him. Her neck stretches back in that exotic way that he absolutely adores, and he slides over it -open mouthed again- to the most sensitive places he has already learnt reside there, revelling in her lovely sighs, and the moans of his name dripping like golden honey from her lips.

Now he follows the source of that glorious sound, licking over her Adam's apple, feeling it vibrate against his tongue as she moans his name, then kissing up to her chin and beyond, until their lips meet and they share a deep kiss that glides effortlessly into a heavy and hot expression of their shared passion for one another. They break away, breathless, and stare deeply into one another's eyes- so very ready to share everything of themselves again.

"A chagair," she breathes heavily, "I love you with all my heart."

"My darling? Yes?" he guesses.

She nods.

"Tell me again, darling Elspeth. Say it all in Gaelic for me"

"Tha mo ghion ort, a chagair"

He smiles dreamily, as her accent rolls into his soul. "Again… please…"

"Tha mo ghion ort, a chagair"

He smiles the light of true sunshine on her face and repeats it softly to her, "tha mo ghion ort, a chagair Elspeth" verbatim, accent and all, for he wants to tell her the same thing is true for him in the language that was born into her heart.

Her eyes glisten at the careful attention he pays to all of the details of her.

Then they kiss deeply once more, her hands and fingers sliding and twisting in his hair, before he continues on his hot exploration of her body. He wants to trace kisses and fingertips over all of those places he did not get to last night- for he feels that there are still far, far too many lovely things about her that he has left entirely unattended.

Dusting kisses over her cheekbones, to the shell of her ear, new depths of fire rise through her moans of pleasure. Charles thinks that he will never tire of hearing Elsie like this.

He places light kisses all across her brow to make his way over to her other ear. _How wonderful that she has two of so many precious things about her!_ he thinks joyfully, as he plays his tongue around her earlobe. She moaning with pleasure now and her breath is becoming more rapid and deeper with every new place on her that he lavishes his attention. _It is wonderful!_ Then he makes his way back down that side of her neck and kisses and nips lightly around her firm and rounded shoulder, eliciting yet another nuanced call of his name from her lips as one of her hands splays across his chest, stroking through the hairs there and the other grips hard and squeezes into his bicep.

He continues down her arm, pausing at the inside of her elbow when he realises that it brings her arching closer to his semi-reclined body. Then he repositions himself, sitting up sideways near her, and he lifts her arm up to his face so that he can trace kisses from her inner elbow towards her wrist, suckling where he finds her pulse feathering rapidly beneath the light blue veins he can see there- tickling lightly at their slight bulges with the tip of his tongue.

"Hmmm…" she hums her pleasure to him and he continues with a close exploration of every finger on her hand- running his hot tongue down every side of them, sucking each one long into his warm soft mouth like he is carefully testing a decanted wine across the valley of his tongue, before dipping the tip of his tongue longer and slower into the webbed valleys where her long fine fingers join with her palm. She is looking up at him with rapt attention, sighing and moaning constantly as her bosom heaves and blushes deep red. She feels that white heat driving low within her. Charles discovers that on her right hand, the valley between her index and middle finger seems to garner the deepest reaction. He delights in the way that it makes her whole body ripple and shudder and her hips angle impulsively towards him, wanting contact. He needs to know what will happen if he does this with her other hand, so he moves again, straddling her just over her knees, unselfconsciously resting the weight of his now very firm arousal in the valley formed by the pressing together of her thighs. Elsie reaches for him instinctively, but he averts her hand gently.

"Not yet. Please, a chagair," he requests quietly. Elsie meets his dark eyes and gives him a small nod of understanding, biting down hard on her lower lip to better thwart her burning instinct to hold and touch him there. She rubs her palms firmly up and down his thighs instead, and he hums his approval to her. Charles has lifted her left hand to his bent head, and his searching tongue is repeating his languid devotion up and down each finger. Elsie starts to whimper her need to him, for some reason this hand is more sensitive. Her hips try to arch and reach towards his arousal, fighting against the restriction placed so lovingly upon her body by his weight held lightly over her legs. It is maddening to be so close to his hardness but unable to draw him fully into her desire yet. Her body is reacting of its own accord to the sensations he awakens in her so lovingly… so easily- and yet only through kissing her hand! He finds that on this hand, the delicate skin on either side of her wedding band elicits the strongest reactions. She is panting heavily now, as he licks and sucks at the webbing of those fingers, arcing deep electricity down to her tightening core. He loves that this secret part of her is surrounded by the symbol of their promise to each other. It is theirs alone- and it is driving her wild with want for him now. She is rolling and bucking now as far as she is able, her back arching and her shoulders pressing hard back into the mattress, trying to shuffle closer to him, trying to brush her heat to his, pushing her breasts up to him as he keeps licking and fondling around her wedding ring with his hot tongue. _She is ready for me so quickly!_ None of her wonderful reactions escapes Charles enamoured notice and he quickly licks back down her arm, lingering briefly at her inner elbow and that other perfectly smooth and strong shoulder, sending a shimmer of a chill across her whole skin. He is straddling her whole body on all fours now, hovering above her- not touching her as she writhes in her want for him to be closer to her– until his mouth crashes with a deep groan onto one of her breasts again and sucks her nipple heavily into his opened mouth. She cries out in pleasure and arches even further towards him. He cannot believe the strength of her! She is astonishing to him- and so incredibly…so…just… _Oh, God Help Me!- She is just …So…DAMNED… incredible!…_.

He groans heavily along with her, savouring her, pushing her on…higher, closer to him…she is teetering near her verge but cannot seem to reach the apex. But Charles is not done yet- he wants to find more places like this on her first- wants to see her soar. No- he cannot stop this heavenly exploration- he is far from finished with finding and tasting all of her _just_ yet.

As he slowly releases her pillowy but tightened breast from his loving mouth, his breathing almost matching hers- hot and heavy- and he rumbles out to her ,"Turn over, my Love, let me kiss your back."

How can she possibly argue with such precise devotion to her pleasure? She rolls over and raises herself up onto her elbows, head bowed forward in desperate anticipation. Her knees spread unbidden, as far as they will go, until they press against the insides of his own knees that sit either side of her legs- her body instinctively wanting to open fully to him. He is still hovering on all fours above her and she can feel the heat radiating off his whole body. But she feels safe beneath his towering bulk- like he is housing _all_ of the extremes of her rampant power and lust within the steady castle of himself- she will not be lost, he will hold her.

He brushes her braid aside and leans forward to continue sucking at her smooth shoulders and the back of her stretched and exposed neck. She mewls and groans and then he runs his tongue down over her shoulder blades and she cannot seem to stop her lower back arching back and upwards, cannot prevent her hips from rolling lasciviously, her knees digging hard into the mattress, pushing her lush readiness up towards him- _oh_ so ready for him. He can smell her sweet arousal rising around them and he groans against her spine at the base of her exposed neck as her breath escapes her in rapid high pitched sighs.

He starts to crouch back onto his own legs and his hardness comes in contact with the top of her full and fleshy buttocks. She cries out again, almost growling in her frustrated need as she arches and pushes back to feel him pressed closer. She is stunned by her almost animalistic reactions to him and hopes dearly that she does not shock him. But it all feels so deliciously wonderful and natural that she cannot bear to try and stop herself moving in this way against his heat. _My God!_ Charles thinks, _She is absolutely wonderful!_

His hands are splayed wide and have run firmly down her sides and up again and her skin ripples in waves beneath his touch. The span of his fingers is great enough to run his thumbs up each side of her spine at the same time- dipping in an out of the ridges and tickling the tension out of the muscles on either side of it along the way, making her writhe under his strong hands as she releases great gasping, high-pitched and panting sighs to the morning light. He reaches up to flick her braid around and down her back again. Placing greater pressure with his thighs around her hips, restricting her rolling and arching a little, he deftly unties the end of her plait and unravels her bounteous hair across her back. Her forehead has sunk lower and is now pressing into the mattress between her hands, her upper back rising to seek more of his touch as she feels her own silken hair swirl and flow across her back as his hot hands run down its length- over and over. He leans his head down over her to draw in its heavenly scent and run his cheeks over its satin smoothness. _God! – I never thought I would see it quite like this!_ His mind is awash in her blissful wonder.

She is still resting up on her elbows and he leans to press his chest down to her back and balances above her on his bent elbows as his great hands run beneath her torso to cup and squeeze each of her ample breasts. He twirls and rubs each tightened nipple between his thumb and forefingers and Elsie's head keens backwards to rub near his head resting at her shoulder. She cries out loud to him in her hot and rising pleasure. His hot length is sitting at the small of her back and she pushes back up to him again, craving more of his divine closeness. He feels more heat surge through him as she grinds her hips and presses to him once more. She is just so, so ready for him! He is in raptures seeing her in such a blissful state with him -because of him.

But he continues his delicious exploration of her beautiful body, savouring every place he can reach, watching her glorious passions rising. Charles slides further down her body, his legs still holding hers firmly in place, but now he is resting back near her knees, and he runs his large hands over her fleshy cheeks, squeezing and digging his fingers into their muscular softness. She pushes her roundness back up towards his touch again, keening in between calling his name repeatedly, almost pleading for him to move his secure and hot bulk back up her body to complete their intimate connection- and _Oh, God!_ he is so very, very hard for her right now- and she is _so_ amazingly tempting like this… but he will not do it – no- he could not- Not until he can see her facing him again- see her loving blue eyes looking into his own.

His broad hands still firmly spanning her sides, he traces kisses across the base of her back just above all that delicious fleshiness, still squeezing his fingers repeatedly around her hips, swirling his soft warm fingertips down and around to trace the creases where her shapely legs meet that full and luscious flesh. Several times, his fingertips almost brush against her pulsing readiness and it is just too, too much for her-…but still not nearly enough!

"A-hahgerhh!" She beats her fist into the mattress in front of her and throws her head back. Her face and neck are prickling red and hot. Her primal cry sounds like her Gaelic endearment to him- but shouted loud- imploring him to finish this sweet torment.

With a final firm squeeze, he moves on from that delightful interlude- leaving Elsie frustrated for the moment in her desire, as he proceeds to run the fingers of both hands down the backs of her toned and strong legs. Having shuffled his weight well off of her, Elsie takes her chance to quickly flip herself over needing to see her man again- to implore him to move to her- _Now!_ Charles sees her hair gloriously splayed out over the white bedding, framing her lust reddened face- and he sees her frantic, wild and wanting look as she holds his eyes in a steely animal gaze- his eyes look back, equally as dark and just as lustful, yet filled with infinite love for her too.

"Oh Charles, a chagair," she half whimpers, half whispers when she sees him adoring her in that way- bringing her back to herself a little – until she can grip back onto that deep love she feels her man again and can express it in her eyes and voice to him once more- he has held her- she will not be lost. He sees the change- he sees it all- and it means everything _…Everything.- she is here with me…and I am there with her. We are._

Smoothly, he lifts one of her ankles up to his mouth. Her Charles is an absolute wonder to her- the extent of his devotions to her boggle her mind and he is so unlike what she had heard and known about men- the tales and realities she knew of what many men would sometimes just _take_ from women – and roughly too. She relaxes back a little from her fervour to watch him, appreciating _fully_ just how gentle and loving he is to her, and her heart feels fit to burst with tenderness for her man. Her eyes glisten lovingly, but still dark with lust for him, as he massages his thumb firmly up and down the arch of her foot. _It feels so good…so very, very good._ She is still panting raggedly as she rubs her other foot up and down the top of his thigh. _Why does he always seem to have so much more contact with my skin, than I can reach of his?_ she wonders blindly, her head lolling from side to side now in her building passion.

Near his lips, he has turned her dainty foot to the side and her legs fall open, exposing her throbbing desire to him. He side glances down towards her, in awe of her complete and trusting openness to him _And -By God!- She is just so beautiful! -_ and with a loving and bright and wicked smile on his face, that Elsie returns in equal measure, he circles his tongue in a slow and glorious lick over the thin skin covering her inner ankle bone. She bites hard on her bottom lip and almost yelps in delight as a shock of intense pleasure drives straight to her glistening core. Her leg jerks reflexively against his strong hold on her- his hand able to wrap easily around her small ankle. Their thoughts are one…. _It is all just…so… Exquisite!_ And Elsie did not know that so many places on her body would strike nerves of heat straight to her womanhood. She cannot help herself, the heat climbs rapidly within her again and her hips roll as she arches her back, presenting herself fully and unashamedly to him as she grips feverishly at the sheets of the bed. Charles is utterly enraptured. He runs his thumb over the ankle bone on her other foot as he slides it off his thigh and he allows himself to be drawn towards that blissful hot and ready haven of hers.

On his knees between her legs, and supported on one hand, he traces his tongue in a sweet and languorous path up the inside of one of her legs as he moves over her. His other hand presses long and firm strokes over the opposite leg.

Feeling him draw so slowly but inexorably closer to her uncontrollable desire for him...for them..., every muscle in her legs tenses up strongly as she bucks and rolls her hips high and her head thrashes back into the pillows again- one hand scratching and crumpling into the sheets and the other thumping heavily down into the mattress. With a shuddering and high keening sigh she cries out to him."Hah- ah- hagh! oh God ...Chaarrles!"

 _Finally._ He is near her heat with his elbows either side if her constantly rolling hips, wedging his broad chest up against her curls as his body lies long between her superbly accommodating legs. She smells divine, and he groans loud but low- all of his want for her- as he kisses long and deep onto her soft belly, straining his neck up to reach her navel and lightly dipping his tongue in there too, making all the nerves and muscles on her stomach ripple in waves towards her ribs. She is still arching and shaking uncontrollably beneath him, still teetering on that fine precipice of absolute and senseless _feeling_. She is fighting the restriction of the weight of his torso, rolling and grinding her scent onto his chest as she growls out his name, over and over. Never has he felt this!- _Never._ This _intensity_ , her raw power. _Never_ …. Never has he felt … _so_ …so.. wanted… just for who he is. He wants to give her everything- everything- _all_ of his love for hers laid bare before him.

He can smell her heady scent in the heat emanating from her body. _Absolute manna from heaven!_ He duck his head lower, running his tongue over the high definition of her hip bone under her soft and fleshy waist- she shudders again rubbing herself to him. _Glorious!_

He runs his lavish tongue across to the other hip bone and traces it with the maddeningly light touch of with the tip of his tongue, then he slides all the way back over to repeat the devotion on that first hip again.

"Charles!" she fairly screams at him, "I am going mad...here!…Ahhh…Mhór! …please!" Then he drops his kisses just below that line of her hip bone, to the soft and pliant dip of skin just above her curls. So very, very sensitive- she retracts that part of her skin away from him as the tickling, sensuous feeling it incites becomes too much for her body to even handle. She cannot take in all of this sensation that skirts along the very borderline of her most urgent need. All she can do is gasp and cry his name again, wanting him to be with her so, so desperately- And he wants her too- _God how he wants her!- she is utterly divine._ He ducks his head one last time, rubbing the bridge if his nose unashamedly into her wet curls, wanting her scent marking him as hers. His forehead is pillowed above her womb. He breaths in her heavy, dense and lush musk and then he quickly dips his tongue into that glorious fluid valley to lick once at her beautiful sweet nub, groaning his want into her as she bucks immediately up into his face, shouting incoherently to him. Then he runs his stubbled chin heavily up and over her writhing mound before moving up to position himself over her.

"Oh yes, Charles, Please…Yesss" she hisses between her clenched teeth. "Be with me- Be with me now, Charles! Oh God Yes-Now! Charles!"

He feels her hot and fluid opening pulsing at his swollen tip. He pushes gently to her and she flowers open to him, velvet slick and drawing him into her. _Oh Gods! It is perfect!_ Her internal muscles are shimmering and pulling him in, he could not possibly resist the irresistible force of her even if he tried. He pushes towards her very lightly and as he does so the first of her climaxes overtakes her, and with every intake of her breath, with every high gasp of her pleasure, he is drawn even further into her. He _never_ knew it could be like this! N _ever!_ So natural. So untroubled, unforced, utterly welcoming- and-just- so- _completely_ divine -and all of it giving her so much pleasure that he thinks he will burst with joy for her happiness so openly displayed to him. It is absolute heaven.

"Oh Elsie," he groans, "Oh my love…"

Her cries are high and rhythmic and her legs have locked instinctively around his waist as she arches all of her lovely hidden womanhood up over him, enveloping him, taking him into her as she continues to rise – strong and shuddering and gasping until she gives a long high pitched squeal of completion followed by the lowest, most gutteral groaning cry he has ever heard.

"Mhhhooórrr!"

As she shudders over the top of yet another peak, her head thrown well back into the pillows and her hands grasping desperately at his back and neck and arms, trying to find some sort purchase on him. Then she finds it- squeezing and digging her fingers into the muscles of his buttocks and her whole back is arching off the bed again, supported only on her shoulder blades, as she tries to desperately to press any space that might possibly be left between them away. He is in absolute awe of her- so very, very strong- glorious, beautiful- unstoppable. _GOD!..._ He barely moves, letting her come home to him, letting her welcome him into her most precious body.

The blood is pounding through his strained and reddened neck and he feels thoroughly overwhelmed, yet he somehow perceives that this rampant thudding heat in him matches the effect on her own neck and chest and he dives forward to feel that heat against his lips and tongue- for it surely matches the other heat she has swathed his very manhood in. He licks lavishly at her collarbones as she cries out to him again, juddering and keening still in her ongoing ecstasy- teetering continuously on the edge of yet another wave of intense pleasure.

He finally starts rocking into her, feeling that smoothness and wetness writhing and rolling back and forth over his most sensitive skin. _Never…Never…!_ his fevered brain gasps inside his head. Not in any of his dreams…never could he have imagined this… this beautiful sensation- this utter bliss, and Elsie is right there with him, calling her pleasure out to him as she gives him every bit of herself- all for him- this is her- for them. It is them.

 _She is a marvel and_ _by God_ _! He is truly living!_

He is caught up inexorably in her frantic rhythms, he tries briefly to slowly retract his whole length and push carefully back into her in long leisurely strokes, but it just frustrates her need too much, she shakes her head furiously against the pillow and growls out that amazing Gaelic endearment at him

"A-hahgerhh! Mhór! Mhór! ! Be with me… oh God Charles….Just BE!…Ah! A Chagair.. Yess…Yess!"

And who is he to argue with or ever stop his Elsie when she is in full and glorious flight?

"Elsie..Elsie..Love.. I am …I am, Love Yess .. love …Yess…Oh God! -Yess! _I AM!_ "

He gives her everything he has, the sweat is dripping from his fevered brow onto her chest as he matches the speed of her gyrating hips as he feels her rising fast again, clenching tight around him, drawing him deeper into her amazing life force with his every thrust. He cannot hold. He does not want to, not when she is right there with him. He will not hold back- he does not have to- not as she bucks and arches and shudders, frantically, almost violently, around him. Then he feels it, feels all of her intricate smooth and little reactions surrounding him and it is all clearly readable to him- he feels her shuddering on the verge with him -as he reaches his final hot and powerful surge- unsure how much he lets go of freely for her and how much she has just drawn out of him- but it _just_ – _does_ - _not_ \- _matter_ \- it is all there for her and he wants nothing but this moment with her- with their eyes locked together – seeing it all- Being there - Being on the edge together. Just being. Together they rise again…and then fall- plunging finally and in unison, into the depths of their full and soulful love.

Shaking and collapsing together, panting onto each other's skin, they come back together gripping hard to each other, kissing any patch of skin they are near, never letting go of the other. Together… they slowly calm until speech returns and tears of joy can rise.

"Elsie, my love, my love" Charles rests his sweating forehead against Elsie's looking deep into her eyes. "La petite mort-heh?" he pants through his smile.

"A chagair, my Charles- Yes…yes …it was…-it was _just_ like that"

Their lips meet in the most tender of kisses. Sighing. Replete.

Air and the life of the morning finally returns to their lungs. Calmer.

"So, how is my mad woman of the attics now?" he smiles gently at her.

"My god.. " hiding her forehead against his cheek, "did I really say that I was going mad!"

A loving chuckle rumbles up from deep in his chest, "Somewhere in there, Love- yes."

"Oh, Dear God, … did...did I shock you?" She chews at her lip, looking up at him.

His hand immediately moves to smooth it away from her teeth, he kisses the corner of that worried lip with extreme tenderness.

"No, my Love, never. _Never._ I am in awe of you- I'll grant you that… but never shocked. You are the sweetest gift to me, a chagair- the sweetest most wonderful and passionate gift I could ever have wished for."

Tears prickle in her eyes. "Well," she chokes out "I will have only you to blame for it if I truly do go mad with want one day- my sublime lover." And she holds him in her watery smiling and loving eyes. "Oh Charles- my lovely Charles," stroking the side of his face, "I have never felt _anything_ like that- _never…"_ as her eyes and heart fill to overflowing.

"Shh…Me too, love, me too- I was right there with you, you know I was- and I felt it all too. It's alright, my love." He brushes the tears away from her cheeks and stares deeply into her eyes "Tha mo ghion ort, a chagair… for everything you just gave me, for everything you let me give to you, pretty Elspeth- _everything._ " And he rolls them to their sides to wrap his arms and legs securely around her to envelop her closely in his warm bulk, stroking her back until she settles back from her overwhelmed state and her tears cease flowing.

CECECECECE

When he is sure she has settled, Charles makes to move.

"Elsie, Love" he says quietly, "I have to move."

"Why love?..Please don't…"

"I'm sorry, Els, I need to use the bathroom. Plus if I don't keep moving now I am sure to seize up completely and not be able to move for a whole week, like when I don't have a hot bath straight after a cricket match- I am going to go and run one for us now."

"I do hope you are not comparing our love making to a boring old test match, Charles!"

He smiles and kisses her on the temple. "My Love, if I had to choose, and could spend five days straight out on a green summer field with you…and actually survive to tell the tale… you know that I would give up cricket as a complete fools game in a heartbeat." Then he groans as he slides away from her arms and turns to sit up on the edge of the bed, and with a slightly pontificating tone he shoots back at her "But you know, …I have always liked those games where the sides are evenly matched," a wicked smile playing in his eyes.

Still exhausted, she slaps him somewhat listlessly on his bottom and smiles back at her silly and beautiful man. "I should hope you would not be telling anyone of such an event, Mr Carson! …Hmmm…"she smiles up at him, "But, do tell me, was it a win, lose or a draw for today's proceedings, Mr Carson?"

He lifts her hand to his lips and squeezes her fingers, eyes glinting with happy love for her. Giving a mock commentary, he replies, "Well, the day's play started with sunshine, a heady summer storm did threaten to overcome the players at one stage, but in the end, Carson, representing Yorkshire, dug deep and really could not fail to be on the winning team today." He grins happily down at his lovely, sated wife.

Curled up on the bed, her head still feeling a bit gaga from their exertions, she giggles heartily at his silliness. "Och, I don't know Mr Carson," her brogue purrs to him lazily, "perhaps we should just call it a draw."

He leans back down to brush her lips with a kiss, "Hmmm... That we could, Mrs Carson, that we could. I'll just go get you a cup of tea, now." And he pulls the covers up over her to keep her warm.

"Hmm…lovely."

CECECECECE

Having seen to himself in the bathroom and started running water into the large tub, Charles returns to their room and sorts a cup of tea from the breakfast trolley- knowing it is well and truly past its best, but there is no point in calling and waiting for it to be freshened up for them before they bathe.

He hands it to Elsie, along with a fresh croissant.

"Urgh! I can't say I think much of the Ritz Hotels attempts to make tea, Mr Carson. I do hope the Palm Court offers something a little more enticing"

"Hmm..Well.. I hardly think, in these circumstances, that we can really blame anyone for the quality of the service here, Mrs Carson- we did…shall we say…get a little distracted away from breakfast there for a while."

" _Carried_ away, more like it! Hmm…" Elsie replies with a happy, hot glitter in her eyes.

Suddenly feeling young and vigorous at the sight of her knowing eyes, Charles takes the cup from her and quickly bends to steel a big bite from the croissant in her hand as he tosses back the covers and grabs her, sweeping her small frame easily off the bed and cradling her in his strong arms.

"Wah! Ooph!" she shouts out in surprise. "What are you about, Charles Carson, you daft man!" She giggles at him.

Speaking messily through his mouthful of food, he replies happily "Carrying you away, my love. Let's go and warm our old bones in the bath tub. I am rather looking forward to fulfilling a particular dream of mine."

"Mr Carson! Really!? Just how many dreams have you been having about married life prior to yesterday?"

"Probably more than I have days left to fulfil them, my darling, but I shall try," he smiles broadly as he plants a big warm crumbly kiss onto her bright and smiling lips.

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N 2:** **LOL. I was** _ **almost**_ **going to interrupt Charles and Elsie mid-foreplay with that breakfast delivery and have Charles bark out loudly something short and rude in frustration through the door to the poor unsuspecting maid- but I** _ **just couldn't**_ **do it to our poor old darlings!**

 **Assume the delivery that woke Elsie is about 8:30am… They can still recover in a lazy bath and maybe a short nap afterwards before getting ready for high tea at 11:30am- I think- that equates to about 7-7 ½ hours of, only slightly, broken sleep for our heroes-** _ **just**_ **reasonable… I think!**

 **A/N 3:** **These links can get you the audio for the Gaelic phrases I have included here.**

?abairt=my%20darling &slang=both&wholeword=false

?abairt=i%20love%20you%20&slang=both&wholeword=false


	23. Chapter 23- Floating Dreams

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 23- Floating Dreams**

 **A/N 1:** **Damn you Chelsie Mind Worm!- These two will not leave me alone- A bit of fluff and afterglow for you all.**

 **CECECECECE**

" _Urgh! I can't say I think much of the Ritz Hotel's attempts to make tea, Mr Carson. I do hope the Palm Court offers something a little more enticing"_

" _Hmm..Well.. I hardly think, in these circumstances, that we can blame anyone for the quality of the service here, Mrs Carson- we did…shall we say…get a little distracted away from breakfast there for a while."_

" _Carried away, more like it! Hmm…" Elsie replies with a happy, hot glitter in her eyes._

 _Suddenly feeling young and vigorous at the sight of her knowing eyes, Charles takes the cup from her and quickly bends to steal a big bite from the croissant in her hand as he throws the covers back and then grabs her, sweeping her small frame easily off the bed and cradling her in his strong arms._

" _Wah! Ooph!" she shouts out in surprise. "What are you about, Charles Carson, you daft man!" She giggles at him._

 _Speaking messily through his mouthful of food, he replies happily "Carrying you away, my love. Let's go and warm our old bones in the bath tub. I am rather looking forward to fulfilling a particular dream of mine."_

" _Mr Carson! Really!? Just how many dreams have you been having about married life prior to yesterday?"_

" _Probably more than I have days left to fulfill them in, my darling, but I shall try," he smiles broadly as he plants a big warm, crumbly kiss onto her bright and smiling lips._

 **CECECECECE**

Charles carries Elsie over to the large bathtub beyond his dressing room.

"Dip your toe in, Love. Is the temperature all right?"

"Well, yes, it is perfect Charles, but…"

He has already lowered her into the water, and it is blissfully warm, and then he quickly makes to step over the edge to join her.

"Charles, wait!"

But it is too late. Even as he is leaning over her to turn off the spigot, the bath is obviously too full, and she bursts into a fit of laughter as he lowers his big frame and the water sloshes in a large wave over the sides, landing with a thump onto the floor.

"Oh.. oops…"

She cannot stop laughing "Eureka! Archimedes!" she manages to gasp out between her loud chuckles "you old duffer!"

"Didn't think of that…"

He looks over the edge of the roll top bath at the wash rolling across the tiled floor with the comical grimace of a child caught in the middle of some mischief, and he cannot hold back his mirth either and barks out a large roll of laughter too. She does not think she has ever heard him really let go of his happiness this way. It is delightful- A full and hearty belly laugh and the shaking of that same belly causes even more water to ripple over the edge of the bath. She is completely lost now- gasping in hysterical laughter as she launches herself forward and straight into his waiting arms, fully realising that the wave she makes on the way is not going to make one jot of difference to the mess they have already made in the pristine bathroom. She kisses him firmly on his love swollen lips in between her giggles.

"Oh, Charles! You really are my big Old Booby aren't you?!" and she kisses him again.

"Well, I did say that I would love you ten years before the flood, my dear."

And this sets them off again, his heaving belly tickling against hers and sending her completely silly again in his arms.

"Oh stop, Charles, stop! It's hurting my sides. Ah! Oh my gosh!" as she draws in a huge breath to calm herself as she looks at him with rosy cheeks and tears of laughter in her sparkling eyes. "You really do make me so very happy, you know that don't you?"

"I am beginning to get the idea, my love" he replies, leaning forward to kiss her beautiful and broadly smiling mouth.

"Hmm...I love you so" she says against his lips as her breathing begins to calm.

"And I love you, sweet Elspeth."

"Hmm…" She settles her head onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat calming as he starts stroking his hands up and down her back "No one has called me that in many, many years, Charles."

"You don't mind do you?"

"No, not at all. I like that it is only you who does, and 'Els' too. No one calls me that but you. Although, both have only come up while we have been making love, so I don't think I would be able to keep a straight face in public if you were to use them all the time you know, my Cheerful Charlie."

He groans out long, "Umm… Elsie, I really would still rather that you did not call me Charlie...please…I mean, apart from my past, it just seems …so… juvenile- to start it at my age, anyway, don't you think?"

She lifts her head and rests her chin on top her arms that she has crossed over at the top of his chest so as to look into his eyes. He does look worried. "I am sorry, Love. It just struck me that this…humour, how you make me laugh so- it is a wonderful side of you, one I should very much like to see more of every day. I do see that you must have done quite well, making people happy when you were on the stage,… and I also know that you can dance quite beautifully- my song and dance man." she smiles wistfully at him, placing a little peck on his chin, "I guess I was just imagining you as a younger man, that's all. But it's alright- if you really do not like it- 'Charles' it shall be… Although, I will not be held accountable for what falls from my lips in the throes of passion with you, my dear man." and she gives him another brief kiss, "You do tend to make me lose my head a bit, you know!"

 _If it is possible to look guilty, lustful and incredibly proud at the same time, he has managed it_ , Elsie thinks. And they grin at each other.

"I believe I can live with that, thank you, my love." And he kisses her again too. "Hmm." He sighs contentedly.

"So, tell me, Charles, was your 'Moses parting the Red Sea' impersonation really the basis of your long-held dream of marital bliss with me?" she smiles up at him impishly.

"Ha! Hardly- the poem spoke of conversion, not Exodus, I believe!…But no, nothing quite so spectacular, I am afraid…umm…" he pauses, a little uncertain of himself all of a sudden, "I would actually just like to wash your hair… if that is alright with you, Elsie."

She looks a little surprised, briefly, but then ever so touched. "You really do love my hair, don't you Charles?"

"MmmHmm" as he lifts his wet hands to place some loose strands of hair back behind her ears at the sides of her face.

"Why?"

"Hmm?…Oh, so many reasons, really, Elsie." She raises a querying eyebrow at him, so he continues. "Well, it is so shiny and soft for starters." As he continues stroking her hair. "And it feels so beautiful in my hands… and then it is so very long, surprisingly so, because it does not appear that way when you pin it up." His voice is slow and dreamy. "And then I love how you expertly keep it hidden that way- like it is a special secret, and I especially like that now I know its truth, and I figure that not many other people will have seen it when it is all down around your shoulders…" he glances down shyly, blushing slightly "…and hanging over your delightful breasts."

She smiles sweetly at him and reaches up to brush a kiss on his lips. _My dear man._

"It's like it is a gift that you share only with me." He smiles lovingly at her. "Although, I do like it very much in the slightly looser style you had it yesterday. Do you think you could wear it that way more often?"

"I have been thinking that I will, yes. It is less harsh… makes me feel younger."

"And then I also love its smell- and only I get to smell it up so closely now too." And he smiles dreamily at this thought. "Can I wash it for you? They have a coconut emulsion thing here if you like."

"Hmm..?" she rouses slightly from the dreamy state his soft low voice and his words have sent her to. "Of course, Love- use it if you like the smell, or the soap is just fine too. Did you already put lavender in the water? It is very nice."

"Mmm Hmm. Just a little. You know how it is good for relaxing muscles- although, I would have liked a rosemary sprig too- that is what I use after the cricket."

"'And Rosemary is for Remembrance'-hmm… but no real need for that, my love- I shan't be forgetting last night and this morning in any great hurry, my darling man" and she brushes yet another loving kiss to his face- this time on the cleft of his stubbly chin. "Should I turn around for you?"

"Not this time- if it will work this way, that is. I like to have you facing me, please." Elsie nods and then rests her head down on his chest.

Charles begins to cup some water in his big palms to wet done the top of her hair, the rest of its length is already swirling in the water behind Elsie. It is so relaxing. She sighs audibly.

"Keep talking to me, Charles," she says lazily, feeling the warmth of the bath overtake her will to move at all after the intense physicality of their morning together. "Hmm… I love your voice, my man," she yawns, "I can feel it through your skin."

Charles' eyebrow gives a small twitch, a little surprised, but he continues with his slow wetting down of her hair, trickling warm water down the sides of her head "Well, I was actually only a bit clearer about your hair yesterday, as I got to finally unwrap it all last night. It is all so special to me really… I don't know if I have the words for it really… It … I don't know… it just seems to speak to me… of your strength… I guess. Your soft heart- it is abundant, yet also very fine, but still incredibly strong… it just… kind of seems like the essence of you, Elsie Love... like it represents who you really are. Modestly hidden, but … _there_ … and solid and real…and … just always shining through really, no matter what…and no matter how you wear choose to wear it… and I guess I just want to know how much effort you do need to put into it being that way… how…how much you put into being the way you are… and so I want to know what it is like to wash it, and dry it and brush it out…I could even plait it for you if you like- pretty simply at least. I guess I sound rather mawkish, don't I?"

She looks up into his eyes. "Oh, Charles." Her eyes shining with love for him again. "You do know that you never sound silly to me when you tell me how you love me. You really are a very dear man. Where ever did you learn to love me in this way? ...And, like you did last night..and this morning? I don't mind saying that you have also had me in awe so many times this last couple of days" as she rests her head back on his chest and traces lazy patterns across it with her fingertips. "Hmm…your letter, all the poetry you feel for me, the way you so gently love me and take care of me, a chagair,… it...it just overwhelms me." And tears prick at the corners of her eyes again. She continues slowly, tentatively "What made you think to love me with that poem Charles…in _that_ way…? How do you know of such things?..."

A low sound grumbles in his chest and he shifts a little. She reads the discomfort that has risen in him. "I..I don't want to ruin any of your memories of our loving Elsie… I have no great experiences from my past… you must know that… and does it really matter? Nothing real or imagined could ever compare to what we have in truth, my darling." He busies himself with lathering some Pears soap into his hands, for the coconut emulsion smells too different from the Elsie he knows and loves.

"I don't think we should be uncomfortable talking about these things, not now. Not anymore... not like before... You can tell me, Charles. You know that I am not easily shocked about such things, not after having lived these many years,…well, I was only shocked that you would find me so alluring at my age, but I find that I am well past that little fear too- after all that we have shared together now, I can assure you of that much at least…But…it has just been…all so different from what I have been taught to expect… for women that is…I have only heard that it is meant to be, at best, an annoying discomfort to be put up with and got out of the way quickly…and at worst….well…what our poor Anna endured..."

His heart catches in his broken voice. "Oh Elsie, Love, no. No…" and he uses his soapy hands to lift her face from his chest and looks deeply into her eyes. "You did not really think I would ever force you did you? I could never…" and his eyes are brimming with the fear that she may have thought him capable of such a horrid thing… or that she may have endured such cruelty in her past.

"No Charles, of course not. I have never thought you capable of any such thing- not even for a second… you are a true gentleman, and I knew that you would always ensure my comfort… but equally, I could not have foreseen that you would…I don't know… devote so much of yourself to my pleasure, really, and not just your own, as I had heard men would do – seeing only to their own needs…"

"But Elsie, your pleasure- your happiness- _is_ my greatest pleasure in this life…don't you see? That I can bring you this is what I want more than anything… and that it allows us to live so closely is all that I could ever really want and need, so it is easy for me… it just makes sense to see you so content and happy… Natural… that's what it is- it is just natural to me, even though I have no real experiences to base this kind of love on…But… I just find I am incredibly fortunate to have the most wonderful and beautiful muse to inspire all of my ideas and deeds…and who definitely inspires something in my own body." And with a slight waggle of his eyebrows, he smiles lovingly at her shining face and kisses her once more on her delightfully soft lips. But he can see that she still wants to know. And he feels safe enough in her love for him, knows that she will not ridicule or shun him, and after all that they have shared together, and as mature adults, indeed why should they not finally speak of such things a little more openly in their private time together? So he tucks her head back onto his chest and starts to lather her hair with the soap.

He continues quietly. "I don't know Elsie, I suppose I am much like you in what I have learned of such things, no one ever talks of it… but, we have both had our share of times having to separate errant footman and scullery maids or the like, to be sure… And I have seen things…more things than I really care for, truth be told… and this is just one instance that …I encountered, and I was shocked by it at first, even appalled by it for a very long time. But, it was only when I knew that I wanted to be with you always and to love you fully, that I…shall we say…dwelt upon it once more…and I began feeling that it could actually be far more beautiful and more loving than what I had inadvertently walked in upon many years ago. And, as much as I was fascinated as to what it might be like for me, I also just wanted to give you that- all of that pleasure and show you my love in that way. You do not mind do you?"

"Griggs and Alice" Elsie whispers quietly into his chest. His breath catches. _Of course she would guess it._

"I am sorry, Elsie, I did not want you to think on them in reference to us. You do know that you are the only thing on my mind when we are together…don't you?" He sounds very worried again.

"Of course I know that, Charles," squeezing her arms a little tighter around his belly to reassure him. "And no, I most assuredly _do not_ mind. It is a most wonderful thing to share together. Although I will admit to being somewhat shocked by it all at first... and by my own response..., but you already know that your actions have very much inspired me too," as she smiles a little wicked and knowing smile against his chest before she turns serious again. "Hmm…I am just very sorry that you were hurt by them in such a way."

"Don't be sorry, my love. I find that I really have no regrets about it at all anymore. For where would I be now if I had not returned to Downton and then come to know you?"

"I see your point. That certainly does not bear thinking about." She yawns widely again. "I am just very glad that we are where we are now, a chagair." And she kisses him lightly through the silvery hairs on his chest. His slow massaging of her scalp is making her feel very drowsy in the liquid and floating warmth of their bath.

"Me too, sweet Elspeth. Me too" His words seep low and loving into her ear from the soft, warm skin of his chest as she slips calmly under the rhythm of his breathing.

Charles runs the remains of the suds from Elsie's head through to the very tips of her locks as she rests against him, watching the bubbles drift slowly away as her hair floats and swirls like a cloud across the water's surface. Then, using one large hand to span Elsie's forehead between his thumb and forefinger, protecting her eyes, he repeatedly pours clear warm water over her head, removing the rest of the soap and rubbing the excess water down and away from her face. She sighs so contentedly against him that he thinks his heart will break with the amount of love it holds for her. How could he have ever lived without this joy? He bends to kiss her on the top of her head, smelling the freshness of the soap and their new life on her scalp. Then he lifts her up gently, moving her head up higher on his chest as he sinks further into the bathtub. Once his nape is resting on the edge of the roll top of the bath, he checks that she is breathing well clear of the water line and lets the slow drip of the tap echoing in their bathroom lull him as Elsie's hair floats dreamlike across his forearms that support her up against him, tickling and soothing him into a light but blissful nap.

CECECECECE

Elsie starts awake to the deep rumbling sound of Charles' hungry stomach. She causes a ripple of lukewarm water to slosh about them. He grunts sleepily but is soon opening his eyes. They have not dozed long, but it has relaxed and warmed their muscles. Elsie angles up to kiss the underside of his jawline then pushes off the sides of the bath to sit away from him.

"We ought to hop out, Charles, before we get too cold. Plus, I think we really should get organised for the day…and eat. I know for a fact that you are awfully hungry." She smiles at him and sighs a long sigh as she grasps all her hair together and runs it through her clenched hand, squeezing the excess water out of it in one long stroke. Feeling a twinge shooting straight to his manhood Charles hums appreciatively at the sight of this and of her pale pink breasts bobbing delightfully at the water line.

"My God, woman, what you do to me" and he sits up and reaches towards her, stroking the underside of one of her now weightless breasts. "You are so very beautiful, my love." and he leans forward to kiss and lick the soapy water droplets from her nearest shoulder.

"Enough of that now Mr Carson, or we won't even make it to high tea. I can skip breakfast once in a while, but if I miss lunch too, I am liable to swoon later."

"You do realise that that was my intention just then, Mrs Carson," he says with a glint in his eyes, then looking morose, he deadpans and sighs heavily, "must be losing my touch already it seems."

She splashes a handful of water at his face, making him splutter.

"Come on silly, give me a hand out, please."

"Certainly, M'lady"

Elsie takes it very slowly lifting herself over the edge.

"Are you alright, Love?" he looks a little concerned for her.

"Oh, I will be fine. I just feel rather like a large lump of melting jelly right now. Need time to find my sea legs, is all."

"Sit on the edge for a bit, Love, I don't want you to slip in all that water. Let me just reach for a towel for you."

Keeping a supporting hand on her forearm the whole time, Charles moves to his knees in the bath and reaches to the end wall to grab a large fluffy towel for her. Using it to squeeze more water from her long hair before placing it about her shoulders and patting her skin dry a little. He reaches up to give the back of her neck a small kiss and mumbles against her warm and freshly soaped skin, "You truly are the most delectable looking lump of melting jelly I have ever seen."

"Och, get away with ye, Mr Carson," she smiles happily, but still somewhat dazedly at him, having turned to capture his lips in a languid warm kiss.

"Are you ok now? Why don't you grab one of those bathrobes from the door and go lie down? We still have some time. I just need to wash my hair quickly and shave," then he groans at the sight around them, "and sort this watery mess out a bit, but then I will come in and help you with your hair."

"Hmm, that sounds like a wonderful plan. Don't be too long, Love."

CECECECECE

Charles returns to his wife dressed in his day suit trousers and shirtsleeves, clean shaven and hair slicked neatly back into place. Elsie is lightly dozing face down on top of the rumpled counterpane, one leg is drawn up at right angles to her body and exposing her shapely calves. Her damp hair is starting to frizz dry around the edges. A shard of clear mid-morning light strikes from the edges of the still closed curtains, bathing her face with summer warmth. A smile plays around her lips, and Charles takes a moment to drill this vision of his loved one into his memories- of the speckled light glinting from her hair and forming a golden halo about her head, and giving her soft skin a full peach blushed tone. He sends up his Sunday prayers. _Dear Lord, I love her so very much. Help me to keep her safe. Help me to always be on her side._ His eyes fill with liquid tender love for her again. Everything is so very close to the surface for him nowadays it seems.

He crosses silently to her dressing room and finds her hair brush. As he goes to sit beside her, he cannot stop himself from running his fingertips over her legs, she is ticklish even in her torpor, and she ripples away from him a little. He runs his hands up her back over the top of her soft toweling bathrobe. Her smile broadens, and he knows that she is awake, but they both stay silent as he starts to brush out her hair across her back, from the tips and slowly moving upwards. As the bristles massage through to her back, she sighs out long and low. No one…no one has _ever_ taken care of her with such tenderness and attention, at least not since her Mam did when she was a very wee lass, but even then, her hair brushing was a rushed affair, as the demands of the house and farm drew her Mam away again. Eyes still closed, Elsie's hand slides to reach out for him, finding his thigh and squeezing it the let him know that this means everything to her.

As he massages the brush over her scalp, carefully removing the last of the tangles from their lovemaking, he asks her where he should start plaiting her hair from. Elsie finally pushes herself up to sit beside him and feels about to point to the area, so as to leave enough movement and looseness around her head to finish the style into a freer form that they both like so much.

His fingers are deft and delicate, and he soon finishes. He leans forward to take in its fresh soapy smell again, before handing the untied end of the braid to her, taking the liberty to brush his soft fingertips over the top of her breast that has become slightly exposed where her robe has rucked open a little. They both smile at this silently shared and mutually desired intimacy before the trappings of public life fully cover their forms. Then Elsie rises to go and finish tying and pinning her hair up and to change for the day.

CECECECECE

Elsie changes into a lovely French blue, fine box pleated, mid-calf-length summer skirt that she had decided to invest in for her once in a lifetime holiday to Scarborough. It is a quality garment in a light and flowing fabric and with the matching coloured blouse to go with it. It is, at once, an elegant enough ensemble to wear to the Palm Room, but is still light and breezy enough to wear for their day trip in the mid-summer sun. She is sure it will prove a very worthwhile investment of her hard earned money as it can be dressed in different ways, and quite economically too, with just a few different blouses. And her lovely new sets of undergarments are perfectly suited to this more fashionable outfit. Elsie is very pleased with the overall effect she sees in the mirror and smiles at herself.

As she applies a light amount of lip rouge, Charles appears behind her in the mirror, full suit on and bowler hat in hand. His eyes are filled with loving admiration for her yet again.

"You look ever so lovely, Elsie. It's new, isn't it? The blue shows up your eyes so well." And he reaches around to kisses her on her cheek. "Do you have our six-pence there, Love?"

She picks it up from the dresser and turns to him to slip it safely inside his waistcoat pocket, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. As her fingers go to wipe some of her rouge from his lips, both their stomachs give annoyed growls, and they grin at each other.

"Shall we go see to that cup of tea now, Mrs Carson?" Charles asks as he proffers his arm to her.

Elsie quickly retrieves her purse and summer hat and links her hand into her new husband's arm- still the same woman, but now his wife and lover- and more herself than she has ever been- part of something that is brighter and freer and so much more than the sum of both of them.

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N 2:** **Ok, so historically, I am not actually sure that the Ritz in London did indeed serve early high tea back in the 1920s. It is more likely that a standard luncheon menu was run for all the fashionable types to assiduously avoid eating and just swan around the Ritz courting favour. It is probable that High Tea was only served mid- afternoon. Auguste Escoffier- Cesar Ritz's long term Executive Chef and collaborator was apparently conflicted about such late and big afternoon tea sittings as he felt that they would ruin people's appetites for a decent dinner. Today there are several sittings for the High Tea at the Ritz, which is where I drew this whole idea from. I will not go into details in the next chapter, but go to the Ritz London Website and check out the menu- I am sure it is pretty similar to what Charles and Elsie would have been offered in the 1920s- sandwiches wise. I dare say the assorted pastries and cakes offer greater variety today, however, Escoffier did introduce over 10,000 recipes to the world over his very long career, so it would not have been a small selection of pastries, even in 1926.**

 ***If anyone can PM me information about who was actually the Executive Chef or Chef de Cuisine at the Ritz London after Escoffier retired in 1921 or even some links to Ritz menus of the 1920s, that would be great- my research has hit a bit of a wall on this front. Maybe I am not looking in the right places. Many thanks. :)**

 **I did want Charles and Elsie to get a signed menu from Escoffier to give to Mrs Patmore as a thank you gift, but unfortunately, I cannot stretch the dates out that far. :(**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow :)**


	24. Chapter 24- Colour, Sweetness and Light

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 24- Colour, Sweetness, and Light**

 **A/N 1:** **I know I have always struggled to keep my tenses consistent throughout a piece of writing- I think I am all over the place in this chapter- so apologies in advance.**

 **A/N 2:** **There is a song that has been a bit of an earworm for me of recent months. Given that this fiction is now set on a Sunday, and prayer and religion are important aspects of Charles and Elsie's lives, this too has seeped into the last chapter, and now this one. I think this song sums up some of Elsie's sentiments and changes in perspective over the years with Charles and her approaches to accepting her life in service that I will touch on later in this chapter. It is from the ever poignant and beautiful writer of the human condition- Mary Chapin Carpenter. The song is called _The Moon and Saint Christopher._ Mary Black has also done a version- (which gives a good bright bell ringing and lilting Celtic tone to it watch?v=cgZCbHcp1JE ), but I do think that this next version is my favourite- done live in a trio of musician, playing their various songs 'in the round', harmonising beautifully together to boot (Mary Chapin Carpenter, Nanci Griffith and Roseanne Cash). Found on You Tube watch?v=IoPTCQazeIY . Chapin's intro just says it all too _"A tune that is really about making choices in your life and then learning to live with them."_**

 **But, poor old Nanci in this one- the song obviously struck a raw nerve with her at that time. It is just beautiful, though.**

 **Here are the lyrics:**

The Moon and Saint Christopher  
(Mary Chapin Carpenter)

 _When I was young, I spoke like a child,  
And I saw with a child's eyes  
And an open door was to a girl,  
Like the stars are to the skies  
It's funny how the world lives up to all your expectations  
With adventures for the stout of heart,  
And the lure of the open spaces._

 _There's two lanes running down this road,  
And whichever side you are on  
Accounts for where you want to go,  
And what you are running from  
Back when darkness overtook me,  
On a blind man's curve._

 _I relied upon the moon,  
I relied upon the moon  
I relied upon the moon  
and St. Christopher._

 _Now I've paid my dues 'cause I have owed them,  
But I've paid a price sometimes  
For being such a stubborn woman,  
In such stubborn times  
I have run from the arms of lovers,  
I have run from the eyes of friends  
I have run from the hands of kindness,  
I have run just because I can._

 _Now I've grown, and I speak like a woman,  
And I see with a woman's eyes  
And an open door is to me now,  
Like the saddest of goodbyes  
Well it's too late for turning back,  
So I pray for the heart and nerve._

 _I rely upon the moon,  
I rely upon the moon  
I rely upon the moon  
and St. Christopher  
to be my guide._

 **So, Protestantism is not big on the following of Saints, so maybe for Elsie – think of Charles Carson in this song instead. Saint Christopher is the patron saint of travellers- I think that can mean travellers through the cycle of life- not just 'out on the road' travellers.**

 **A/N 3** **: At the end, I will post links to all the artworks I have extensively referenced in this piece. It is worth going to look at them. Much of what I describe and discuss about the compositions through Charles and Elsie has been derived from The Tate Britain's excellent website. I have had to play with the truth a little on a couple- as not all of these painting were actually hanging in 1926, or have ever been hung, in the Tate Britain Gallery- but they fit the bill for me in this little Chelsie fiction. I will add notes accordingly.**

 **CECECECECE**

 _"You look ever so lovely, Elsie. It is new, isn't it? The blue shows up your eyes so well." And he reaches around to kisses her on her cheek. "Do you have our six-pence there, Love?"_

 _She picks it up from the dresser and turns to him to slip it safely inside his waistcoat pocket, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. As her fingers go to wipe some of her_ _rouge from his lips, both their stomachs give annoyed growls, and they grin at each other._

 _"Shall we go see to that cup of tea now, Mrs Carson?" Charles asks as he proffers his arm to her._

 _Elsie quickly retrieves her purse and summer hat and links her hand into her new husband's arm- still the same woman, but now his wife and lover- more herself than she has ever been, and part of something that is brighter and freer and so much more than the sum of both of them._

 **CECECECECE**

As they enter the Palm Court of the Ritz, the room is light and breezy, and the apricot tones contrast strikingly with Elsie's new French blue dress that kicks out and flows beguilingly around her legs as she walks in, completely at ease and in tune with these fine surroundings. Charles thinks the whole effect just makes her eyes look as bright as the sky on this clear and beautiful summer's day as it shines through the lofted glass of the high arched ceiling above their heads.*

Their High Tea lives up to their every expectation and fulfils their desperate hunger quite as well as any feast they have ever seen set at the Abbey could have. They start with a delightful variety of finger sandwiches made with the fluffiest of breads, cut into precise fingers, of which they both consume double what would be customary for most guests, and it is all washed down with a choice of teas from different parts of the sub-continent. This is followed by a selection from a very large range of delightful pastries presented to them on the finest china tiered display stands. More than some of the latter offerings surpass even Mrs Patmore's skills on that front- not that Charles or Elsie would ever let her know that! Although, this fact is hardly surprising, given that the world's most famous chef and his menus and recipes and training are still heavily influencing the current staff and the running of the Ritz kitchens, even five years after his retirement and departure to the continent again.**

In fact, there are so many pastries to choose from, that Charles and Elsie feel rather conflicted, and far too hungry from their recent exertions and disrupted meal patterns, to have to choose between them. So, although it is far from correct etiquette, they surreptitiously cut their personal selections in half and swap their plates part way through eating so that they may each enjoy a greater range of the delicacies and can compare their thoughts on all things creamy, crumbly, fluffy and light and sweet. It is heavenly. They feel like a couple of naughty school children trying to hide their mischief from the prying eyes of the teacher. Or in this case, the glares of the various well-to-dos at nearby tables, who are really being decidedly more ill-bred than Charles and Elsie, what with their obviously condescending attitudes towards everyone else around them.

However, it does seem that Charles and Elsie's silly mood from their bath time earlier is seeping into their conversation. Charles keeps slipping into mild innuendo and slightly risqué private jokes whilst managing to maintain a very austere exterior. He merely raises a single eyebrow suggestively at Elsie from time to time, often leaving her quite unable to respond with any sort of decorum. Thus, he effectively forces her to silently but bemusedly stew at him. Such is the case when he purposely gazes, for slightly longer than would be deemed appropriate, at the featured sculpture of the room, a golden nymph bathing in a fountain. Then he passes a cheeky comment, in all seriousness, about how it hardly compares to an even more stunning piece of artwork from Scotland that he has been fortunate enough to spy in a similar state of repose not so long ago. Elsie nearly chokes on her piece of gateaux! Then Charles' eyes glitter fiendishly at Elsie when he sees bright red heat prickle up her neck to just below her ears. She doesn't know whether to smile broadly at him for the compliment or be frustrated at him for making her blush so readily in public!

 _Really, if this sort of thing happened under his nose in the servants' hall at Downton, there would have been more than a few footmen getting a dressing down from Carson the Butler!_

Although truth be told, Elsie doubts that any of the footmen would be able to try such a line on a lass without devolving directly into far coarser language.

 _Darn that Charles and his clever way with words!_

Elsie tries to smile demurely at him- but fails miserably as she cannot keep the knowing brightness from her eyes.

 _Well, after all, I did say I wanted to see more of my playful Charles, and really, he does make me smile-_ _the cheeky beggar!_

Elsie considers how and when to further chastise Charles about such behaviour. It is just as well they have had their fill of the high tea, for Elsie definitely feels that Charles Carson is in dire need of some fresh air. And, it would certainly not do her any harm to cool down a little and remove herself from the scrutiny of others for a while!

Elsie asks Charles quietly but pointedly, "If you are _quite_ done, I would like to know if you are ready to step out with me again,… Mr Archimedes?" and she wickedly arches an eyebrow at him.

Charles' face breaks into a broad grin, and he cannot help but chuckle as he moves quickly to help Elsie with her chair.

CECECECECECE

They set out for a leisurely stroll across Green Park and towards the Canada Gates at the edge of Buckingham Palace. It is a lovely day with a splendid clear blue sky overhead, and it is not so hot as to be uncomfortable. Many people are out strolling and picnicking in the parks after the cities morning church services have finished. Young families sit together to enjoy the sun and each other's company. Nannies of the well to do families of Belgravia and Pimlico are wheeling perambulators about, and even a couple of nurses are taking their elderly charges out for their weekly constitutional in the clear air. It is lovely to approach their day in London without having to feel its immediate grime and press. The oldest of cities feels decidedly alive and bright and young to Charles and Elsie, who are still bathing in the newness and light-heartedness of their own happy and changed circumstances.

As they near the Palace, they know that they are too late to see the changing of the guards as the remains of the onlookers of the ceremony have mostly dispersed. They cross over the Constitution Hill roadway and skirt the edges of the immense Palace Gardens on the paths behind the Palace itself- strolling leisurely in the shade and making their way to the trams that run down the Vauxhall Bridge Road towards their destination at Millbank near the Thames.

CECECECECE

They are jostled a little by the movement of the tram, and once more Charles struggles to avert his gaze from the movement of his wife's body against him. Now that he knows what beauty lies beneath her clothing, it is extremely difficult to withhold the wanting hum that rolls from deep inside his chest at the sight of the voluptuous movement of her…her... _Oh dear, Lord! Steady Charles, old boy…Steady._

Elsie smiles knowingly at his conflicted state and feels very pleased. _But really! Control yourself, my man!_ She feels compelled to speak, lest their day devolves into _too_ much unseemly talk in public.

Her brogue rolls relaxed and thick, but she states firmly, "Mr Carson, I know that I said I wanted to hear your thoughts on your various favourite artworks at the Gallery today, but I do hope that you can offer up something a _little_ more intellectual than your recent efforts in the Palm Court."

Justly chastised, Charles just humphs at her a little and mutters, " I shall do my best Mrs Carson, as I always try to, for I should hate to be a disappointment to you on this, or on any other front. Although, I hardly think it is _all_ my fault you know."

And with that, they just smile broadly at each other, and he still cannot stop himself from waggling his eyebrows at her in that slightly suggestive manner he has so recently developed.

CECECECECE

They wander quietly through the cool and spacious galleries of the Tate. Charles follows where Elsie's interests draw her, for he has visited most years during the London seasons with the family and does not want to become an annoying tour guide thwarting her enjoyment. Besides which, it gives him more time to observe his wife looking so lovely and relaxed in such elegant surroundings again- the stiff mantle of her duties tossed aside. He feels he can somehow see inside her better as he watches her- by seeing what appeals to her and what the different artworks say about her own thoughts and feelings, even when she does not speak.

As was to be expected, some of her selections surprise him. And as they chat, it becomes apparent that she is drawn to the landscape paintings a little more, like the rural idylls of a John Constable, especially the ones showing the common man peaceably working the land, like _The Glebe Farm.***_ and _The Valley Farm****._ In contrast, Charles has always enjoyed the history behind the people of various portraits, often the ancestors of people he has encountered through Lord Grantham over his years in service. They are a solid reality for him. They are somehow comforting to him. Charles likes placing these peoples' lives in the timeline of historical events, trying to find continuities with the past- trying to divine some sort of reason behind why life in England has played out in particular ways. But, when Elsie asks him to lead her to his favourite painting currently on display, Charles surprises even himself with the choice that springs immediately to mind- the one that he has actually returned to so many times in recent years. For, standing before it once more, Charles sees it with fresh eyes and is pleased with the way that it embodies all that he likes about history and provenance, but is also surprisingly attuned to Elsie's own interests a little more. In some ways, it affirms the affinity he has always felt for her and his enjoyment of her way of thinking.

They stand for a long time in front of a Stubbs painting of _Mares and Foals in a River Landscape.^_ Charles explains quietly, "I first saw it many years ago when I was still valeting to his Lordship's father, and I travelled with the elder man on business to the estate of the 8th Viscount Midleton at Peper Harrow, in County Surrey^^. It was hanging over a door in the dining room, with two smaller Stubbs paintings either side of it. I had been called upon to double as a footman at table, due to many of the Viscount's staff succumbing to a Scarlet Fever^^^ outbreak and leaving the Estate quite short on numbers to attend. This painting was a welcome focus for the endless hours waiting to attention during the course of the meal."

"Well now, you will have to tell me sometime of your favourite paintings at Downton that may provide the same distraction, Mr Carson. I have never thought to do so over all these years. But, I guess I never thought of you as being anything but fully attentive to the family at all times."

"Oh, you would be surprised how little direct focus is needed when waiting table, Mrs Carson. Much is routine and can be picked up at the edges of my consciousness it seems- seeing and pre-empting when they should require anything and the like. And,…" he speaks even more quietly to her, as if he were about to tell a state secret that should not be overheard, he went on, "do not let on that I said this, but conversation at table is not always particularly scintillating, or erudite and fascinating, to me." She flicks her somewhat surprised eyes towards him and releases a short chuckle.

"Never!" she says in mock surprise.

"But I am thankful for that, really, for if every night involved a biting exchange between Mrs Levinson and the Dowager Countess, or the attempted assassination of a politician by a member of the family, or the denigration of the family by guests like Mr Lawrence Grey, I should probably have had a heart attack years ago!... But,… likewise, Mrs Carson, I am sure you have developed some favourites of your own that I should like to know about," and he smiles at her.

 _It is strange,_ he thinks, that this has never come up for them, for their regular night time conversations often revolve around the staff and family, and perhaps the latest books they are reading, but he figures that, without the pictures there in front of them to refer to, they have not ever felt compelled to talk on such subjects. Unfortunate really, but now at least they have one more delightful thing they can share in their life together. _Better late than never,_ he figures. _No regrets, Charles. Do not regret._

"Shall we sit for a while, Mrs Carson?"

"Indeed."

"So, anyway, this painting is actually only on loan to the Gallery for ten years, as a gift to the Crown when the Earldom of Midleton was conferred to the 9th Viscount in 1920.^^ I have been ever so glad that I could see it each year during the season, as I don't get to travel to all the great houses much anymore. It is right, I think, that more people get to enjoy these great artworks."

"Well, maybe now with some of these large estates having to open their doors to the masses just to make ends meet, more people can enjoy the likes of what Downton has collected over the years."

"Hmm," he grumbles, "Well I do not think I will ever be comfortable with hoards of the great unwashed traipsing through His Lordship's home. But, it seems that I am the last to have a say in any such matters."

"Oh, you oughtn't to speak of your fellow man _quite_ so harshly, Mr Carson,… well… at least not on the Sabbath, anyway," Elsie finishes with a conspiratorial smile in order to soften the blow a little. "So, tell me why you like this one so much, I thought you preferred the portraits a bit more."

"Hmm, it is true, I like tracing the history of the people in the portraits, but even this painting speaks of what these great families see as important, Elsie, their brood mares. It is about the refinement of all that is seen as good… at least in the truly great and benevolent houses… and, I also like that their patronage has allowed someone like Stubbs to create this work; for otherwise, we may not have it to enjoy at all- Stubbs could have just as easily ended up in a shop or factory like you or me- lived poorly and died young. These great houses have protected many of us from that sad fate."

"Well, I cannot disagree with that. My life has certainly been more secure for it, especially with such a... hmm...I don't know…such a generous family as the Crawleys, despite their financial difficulties over the years. They have always been respectful to us, even in our lowly stations, I will grant you that Mr Carson."

"Hi praise from you indeed, Mrs Carson!" He looks towards her, pleased at her admission to at least some affection for the family. "We have always been well provided for, at least you and I have been, it is true. And I fancy that both our opinions on the running of the household have been quite important his Lordship and her Ladyship over the years."

"Aye, well the fact that we are in London and staying at the Ritz would seem to attest to that fact! We do know well enough what we are about, you and I... But, tell me what else you like about this picture, Charles."

"Well…I like the precision with which he paints. They are so life-like, don't you think Elsie?"

"Indeed. They are, almost like a photograph."

"But better, I think. There is more… _life_ to them somehow than what a photograph could possibly capture- and well… a photograph would miss all of the colour too…Did you know, Elsie, that Stubbs actually spent a lot of time studying anatomy at the York County Hospital and also dissecting the dead beasts and noting all of their anatomies so that he could paint this well?^^^^ I like that dedication to his craft too, really- as gruesome as it all sounds." Elsie stays silent, looking at the painting and letting Charles speak. "But, mainly,… I guess… it reminds me of my childhood... in the stables. I like that it is a picture of nurturing mothers and their bairns. There is just so much _strength_ there. And they look so …alive. Quivering… don't they, Els?" He sees her nod from the corner of his eyes and goes on. "They are so alert to their surroundings- it is like Stubbs was actually there painting them in that single frozen moment, and that they know it too… They almost look ready to startle. They look a bit skittish like horses get when they think they need to protect their young….And… I like that when you look at it, your eyes are always drawn back to and around the group- time after time, and that they stand so clear and sure against all of that storm brewing in the background. _Like The Dowager, and Her Ladyship…and you- especially you, my darling Elsie,… just like you always have, _he thinks, but does not need to say. "…It all just feels … safe, like the little ones will still be ok… but it is kind of exciting too…free… and…I don't know…they are just so…vigorous…vivid, even…hmm…maybe…" he trails off. "...But I am sure you must just think I am being a bit mawkish again."

She almost whispers to him as she squeezes his hand a little, for she understands him exactly. "Don't always be so sure of what I will think of your musings Mr Carson, and please don't be so quick to be embarrassed by them, either. I would not have requested this outing if I did not want to know your mind on such things. I actually think you have captured the soul of it all very well indeed. They are magnificent animals, I have always felt that even as a wee lass," and she squeezes his hand again, and intones, lower still, "thank you for showing me, a chagair." He squeezes her hand back and runs his thumb once more over her wedding band.

CECECECECE

They rise and meander through more of the galleries, finally alighting in the Turner Bequest wing. Elsie releases his arm and makes her way to the centre of the first room. She appears almost overwhelmed, her hand has risen to fist over her heart as she turns slowly around on the spot, trying to take it all in. As a whole, the paintings, the whole room, is incredibly bright when compared with some of the rooms and the darker toned paintings they have perused so far. Charles is taken aback by the vision of Elsie- the contrast she strikes against the stormy oranges and pinks and yellows in her calmly floating and swaying blue dress- much as it was in the Palm Court, only freer- more natural.

"Oh…Charles…" she whispers, "I have not seen anything the likes of this before."~

"Hmm… I have always found these rooms a little…unsettling…I am not sure Mr Turner's work is quite my cup of tea, really."

"Oh, but Charles.. just look… look at all the light! It is stunning."

Charles looks at her in the midst of it all- the calm at the centre of all his storms. "Well, I cannot disagree with that sentiment, Mrs Carson," as he gazes lovingly at her, "but I think we may have a fundamentally different perspective on these things."

Elsie catches the meaning in his eye just then and smiles serenely as she returns all of her love to him with her own eyes. She starts to move from one massive painting to the next, and he follows silently behind. It is all steam rail and sail and clouds and storms- all indistinct and …well… _messy_ to Charles' eye. But then Elsie will stop and point to a little feature here or there, sometimes moving right up to a painting to view the intricacies of a single brushstroke, finding the nuance of feeling within the tones of the tiniest patch of paint. Elsie does not speak often. She just points to things for him, tugging on his sleeve a little at times to bring his attention to all the wonders she has seen in the painting. And, where once it had all appeared as a blurry mess to Charles - where once he had stood and tried in vain to fathom how anyone, let alone the trained eye of a painter, could have seen the world around them in this way- now, his Elsie is showing it all to him anew.

She stops for longer in front of two different paintings of the same locale.

"Oh! Look, Charles, it's Brighton."~~

"But it is not Brighton as I see it and remember it, my dear, I think I prefer Mr Constable's version of the same scenes.~~~They are a bit more realistic, at least for the time in which he painted it."

Elsie is quite animated now. "Oh, come now, you cannot tell me that our day at Brighton was not just as bright as this painting shows it? Mr Constable's seems positively _dull_ compared to the light in these. And look, Charles! He has even captured that haze of salt that sits in the air at the beach. I think it is just wonderful."~~~~

"I suppose."

"It is just so full of… I don't know… the feeling of _life_ , Don't you think?... Kind of like your _Mares and Foals_ , ... but different…"

"Quite different, to be sure. Less distinct, that is for certain, but I guess I know what you are saying."

Elsie is only half listening as she scans closely over the whole massive painting.

"Where are the people, though, Els? Isn't that where life is at?... Where it is found?"

"Well, that is a truth, Mr Carson, to be sure, but… he has all the signs of our lives there- the things we build, and … well… doesn't the weather- the air around you- doesn't it just make you feel alive sometimes too?"

"Hmm…I suppose so… Well, I do know one thing it all brings to mind, my dear, and that is that, apart from the last two days I have spent with you, our day at Brighton was one of the happiest and most memorable…" and looking down at her hand resting in the crook of his elbow, he finishes quietly, "and the most important, of my whole life."

She just squeezes his forearm where it is supporting her hand in unspoken agreement. _I know_. Her eyes answer his heart-filled gaze.

Charles is the first to break their reverie. "But which is your favourite painting, do you think, Elsie?"

"Oh, by far and away this one… Come with me." And her hand tugs at is arm to lead them into a secondary room. This painting is smaller, and darker than the other Turners, an earlier work of his, before all the yellows and haze and large swirling brushwork overtook his work.+

Her brogue is rolling thick and fast now. "See? It's _our_ Yorkshire, Charles. Do you see it? It could almost be Downton there in the middle of it all. It looks like home- with all that cultivated land and the life.. and death –I guess… of the hunt, there running through it. And... and then all that wildness of the moors in the background- that cannot ever be tamed… and then the sky, Charles- just look at it! The sky looks just like that at home don't you think? It looks like he just plucked down that unpredictable late Autumn Yorkshire sky that roils above us sometimes and... and somehow…he just _threw_ it straight into this frame…." She sees that Charles' eyes have widened a little at her enthusiastic outburst. "Oh, dear…umm..gosh!… Now I am the one who probably _does_ sound overly sentimental!"

"Not at all, Love. I just… I guess I have never thought of how much you are at home at Downton, how much you must love Yorkshire, too. I guess, I have often thought of you as being far away from your one true home, and that you abide your life at Downton… tolerate it, but nothing more."

In an out of character move for both of them, Elsie actually takes his hand in public as other patrons wander around and through the galleries, and she leads him to sit with her on a plush open backed viewing settee in the middle of the room. She angles towards him. She needs to tell him… needs him to understand.

"Oh Charles, you are good with numbers, and you know that I have now lived almost four times longer in Yorkshire than I ever did in Argyll. My accent may never have left me, but I most assuredly did leave Scotland- and an awfully long time ago too- and I have seldom ever been back. My home is Downton, Charles, and Yorkshire,…and… with you. I have loved my life at Downton, really I have, even all of the hard work. I chose it for myself, and yes, it was out of the limited choices I really had in life… but I chose it…and I built it for myself as best I could, and I think I could now hold it all out in my hands before my parents, if they were still here with me, and be proud to say 'Look, Mam and Da, this is what I have done, this is what I have made of the life I was given.++ Does that make sense Charles?"

He stares into her eyes, moved but still perhaps a little perplexed. But he just lets her speak her piece as she looks intently down at their joined hands.

She continues, very quietly-privately. "Charles, I asked you once if you wished you had gone another way and maybe had a family of your own… and you never answered, but that is no matter now, for I think I may be right in thinking that you have not wished for a different type of life at all, not after I learnt about Griggs and Alice did and how it hurt you, and certainly not now that I know all about your early life on the estate and your Mother and Father dying when you were so young. I know why Downton is so important to you- why it was the very best of choices for you. …And, really, we both knew from the outset the commitment that our jobs required in the days when we came through the ranks. It is like we just cut those other thoughts of having a family off completely when we chose the top jobs in service. Am I right?"

Charles just nods. There was never any possibility for them to have both, not like Bates and Anna could so many years later, and in very different positions on the household staff.

"But, Charles… I need you to know that my answer to my own question back then would actually be somewhat different today…You see, back then I _did_ wonder what might have been for me if I could have had a family- bairns of my own- because, I guess, I was by then definitely at that phase of life where every possible sign that I could have had my own children was leaving me… and forever. And it upset me some. So, I hadn't learnt to live with all of my choices fully back then.

That is why I saw Joe Burns later on, really, to see if I could have a part in his family, and with his children. But when I turned him down, it was really because of something that Sweet William said to me at first, Charles. He said, _"I don't know how this house would run without you Mrs Hughes, I really don't"_. And he just stopped me in my tracks with that. And... I looked around at our halls Charles, and at all the staff you and I were taking care of, and it finally hit me- all of those things I had taken for granted- all of the young ones I had looked out for over the years, and always with you by my side- the whole time….and I just knew that, if things had gone another way, that I could have actually been a good Mam to my own bairns."

"You would have been the best one ever, Elsie-love." Charles rubs her hand in his.

"And you would have been the very best Da, Charles, you know that. But really, we already were weren't we? And, it wasn't until William said it that I could see it, and then I could be happy with my choice to go into service, because it did give me a family of my own- with you- and with all of the pride and grief and happiness that goes along with loving people and working towards the same things together. So that is why I tried to tell you about Joe at all back then, I think,- because I didn't have to, not really. And I told you that I turned him down because I was not that young farm girl anymore, and I certainly wasn't, but I didn't really have the right words then to tell you all that I was thinking over at that time. Hph...I am not sure I am really making it any clearer now, Charles."

"It's all right, I understand, keep going."

Elsie huffs out a small bemused laugh. "Well, as it turned out, _you_ had all the right words for me. Life _had_ changed me, and yet, there I was - busy regretting that, instead of seeing all the good things that had grown out of my choices in life and learning to live happily with them- learning to accept how they had shaped me. But I could not seem to tell you all that at the time- that when I turned Joe Burns down… I was actually and finally able to stop wishing for what I could no longer have in Argyll, or, if I am truly honest, what I could never have had with you- our very own bairns that might have been ours if we had somehow met sooner,… but really, when I think on _that_ particular, even when I first met you I was still too old to even think that it could ever have happened for us- so that was never _really_ in any plan for us it seems…. But back then, when I said no to Joe Burns, I did realise, at least, that I had actually long loved Yorkshire- for the way it has allowed me to make this life side by side with you, my man. I saw Downton more like you always have from then on, and being by your side as my family- the only family I was able to have really close to me every single day—that was a very grand thing to have indeed. And it was enough. That is what I should have told you then, Charles- it was enough."

"Maybe you did always know, Elsie-love. Otherwise, you would not have looked so hurt that day I said the upstairs family was the only family I had. I was wrong then too. I didn't see everyone downstairs as my family, not even you, or at least I didn't acknowledge it. But when I saw how much I hurt you, I had to think on it all too, you know. That's when I saw what you just do so naturally, Els, all the care you take of the young lads and lasses, and especially William at that time. And even how you were trying to help me corral the worst excesses of Thomas and O'Brien. Maybe you did know it all back before Joe Burns courted you again- that Downton is where _our_ people are, but I was not doing anything to help you see it clearly because I had not thought of it at all that way myself yet."

"It's all right, Charles. You apologised straight away, and I knew you did not mean to hurt me. How could you have known… if I didn't know it all in so many words, myself? What a pair of old nincompoops we are, hey?" and she gives him a wry smile and looks deep into his dark eyes. "But know this now, Charles Carson, I have no regrets for what might have been- whether in Argyll on a farm or if we had somehow met earlier and left service to have our own family- for what would be the point? None of it can be changed. All that I know is that you have always been, and you still are, my very best friend in all the world, Charles. You have always been respectful to me, you know when you have slipped up, and you make amends quickly, which is more than I can actually say for myself, and you have always been my most trusted and strident ally- _always_. And really, that is what I was not willing to give up just to return to farming with Joe. That friendship...that _love_ , Charles. I could not walk through that door and say goodbye to you forever and walk away from you- it would have broken my heart. Downton _has_ always been enough for me… Your friendship has _always_ been enough for me, Charles… And, now I find that I am just lucky enough to have been given even more than I could ever have hoped for in this life- with you Charles. I have been truly blessed in my life with you, and I have no regrets anymore, Charles- not one. That is what I wanted you to know. That is all."

Charles' heart is full. That he has even managed to listen to all of Elsie's honesty without tears falling from his eyes astounds him, for his emotions with regards to her are so raw and real and readily accessible nowadays- like they are always running riot and rising up through his very skin, and such that he feels all of his control vanish in the overwhelming lightness and brightness of it all. He cannot speak. And though it is not something that Charles would ever have thought he would do in a public place, he grips ever tighter to her hands and leans in close to Elsie's face and kisses her very tenderly upon the lips, for in this moment, what else could he possibly say?

CECECECECE

Silently they rise and walk, Elsie's hand is once more resting on Charles' arm. Side-by-side with the Yorkshireman she loves, they both look long at Elsie's painting of the Yorkshire that they both know and love. Side by side. And, just as he had once done for her, Elsie helps Charles to see and appreciate the storms and the sheer light of life that shapes them and changes them once more.

 **CECECECECECE**

 **Assorted A/N's**

 ***Cesar Ritz did apparently take a lot of time choosing the colour scheme for the Palm Court so that it was the most flattering to the majority of people's complexions (read 'white/ Caucasian' here'!) and the electric lighting was tested over and over to achieve a similar effect. It struck me that Elsie's blue dress might work surprisingly well in that setting too.**

 **History of the Ritz as per Wikipedia wiki/The_Ritz_Hotel,_London#The_Palm_Court**

 **And as per the Hotels own publication.**

 ****Despite finding no evidence that this was the case in 1926 at the Ritz, I have gone with the idea that Arsene Avignon was by then the Chef de Cuisine (Executive Cher/Big Banana in the Ritz kitchen). JF actually featured Avignon in DA when Alfred goes to the cooking test day. Just makes sense that Avignon was Sous Chef under Escoffier and then succeeded him upon the latter's retirement. This might give me more of a chance for Alfred to get a look in from Chelsie tomorrow- before they ship out to Scarborough.**

 ***** _The Glebe Farm._ By John Constable (c.1830). /art/artworks/constable-the-glebe-farm-n01274**

 ****** _The Valley Farm._ By John Constable (1835). /art/artworks/constable-the-valley-farm-n00327**

 ** _^Mares and Foals in a River Landscape._** **By George Stubbs (c.1763–8)**

 **. /art/artworks/stubbs-mares-and-foals-in-a-river-landscape-t00295**

 **^^this provenance is accurate regarding the Viscount of Midleton. wiki/Viscount_Midleton**

 **^^ re the Stubbs painting, I have made up the donation to the Tate from 1920 when the Earldom was conferred to the 9th Viscount of Midleton, as the Tate actually only acquired the print in 1959.**

 **^^^ As you are probably aware- the JF and DA timeline is full of holes, Charles supposedly came to Thrushcross Grange, Ripon, as a 14-year-old (1870) to work as a junior hall boy and by 1875 (19year) was the 6th Earl of Grantham's (Robert's father) second footman at Downton. However, Charles was simultaneously meant to be was treading the boards with Griggs during these years (1870-75) … according to the DA Wikia anyway.**

 **So, I have decided that my history of Charles having always lived on the Downton Estate makes all this a bit easier. My stab at when he may have been valet and gone to Peper Harrow is in 1880- (Charles' mid-20s)- mainly because there actually was a _lovely_ Scarlet Fever outbreak.  ?Itemid=30 that can conveniently answer my plot needing Charles to be in another house's dining room serving so that he could be looking at the Stubbs painting in the first place! GAH!- the knots you can get into with historical fiction! Also, the 8th Viscount of Midleton was actually a conservative politician for a time, so maybe the fictional dinner with the fictional 6th Earl of the fictional Earldom of Grantham was to discuss such matters as the issues in Transvaal, South Africa and the lead up to the first Boer War at the end of 1880. … _Now breathe out!_**

 **^^^^Basic history of the artist George Stubbs, but more can be found on the Tate website too. wiki/George_Stubbs**

 **~J.M.W. Turner wanted his life's work to remain as close to a whole body- within reason, and so he bequeathed over 30,000 works to the British people much of it housed at the Tate Britain. I was lucky enough to see some of his works in London many, many years ago, but even better- and with a fewer people crowding through all at once, albeit still very busy, when many of his key works were brought to my home town's very good little state gallery. Unforgettable- it really is a bit overwhelming to be in a room full of this much painted light- hence Elsie's response. Only Australian Artist Fred Williams work in a full exhibition has had a similar effect on me…So, all I can say is- just go see it (Both Turner or Fred Williams really) if you ever can.**

 **~~ this is one of the Brighton Paintings I have Elsie looking at- _Brighton Beach, with the Chain Pier in the Distance, from the West._ By Joseph Mallord William Turner**

 **(c.1827, 1843)**

 **. /art/artworks/turner-brighton-beach-with-the-chain-pier-in-the-distance-from-the-west-n01986**

 **~~~ Charles is talking about _Chain Pier, Brighton._ By John Constable (1826-7). The Tate didn't actually buy it until 1950, but it was on display at Agnew's gallery in London in 1926- so I just shifted its venue for my story.**

 **. /art/artworks/constable-chain-pier-brighton-n05957/text-illustrated-companion**

 **~~~~ This is the painting that reminds Elsie of their day at the beach: Joseph Mallord William Turner, _The Chain Pier, Brighton_ (c.1828).  /art/artworks/turner-the-chain-pier-brighton-n02064**

 **+This is Elsie's favourite painting: Joseph Mallord William Turner  
 _Raby Castle, the Seat of the Earl of Darlington_ (exhibited 1818)**

 **. /art/artworks/turner-raby-castle-the-seat-of-the-earl-of-darlington-tw0972**

 **++Thanks once more to Virginia Woolf and _Mrs Dalloway_ for this turn of phrase.**

 **CECECECECE**


	25. Chapter 25-Reflections

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 25- Reflections**

 **A/N 1:** **My head canon reminders-**

 **-Elsie is not a pauper, so Charles and Elsie have been slowly arranging their investment property for retirement as equal partners in a little guest house prior to Charles actually finding the time and nerve to actually propose marriage.**

 **-Thomas has attempted his 'treatment', but has not been driven to suicide yet.**

 **-Mary has been through the Gillingham mess, but I prefer to keep visions of Talbot out of this story- I think Mary should remain single, and quite frankly- Talbot was boring. Mary strikes me as being able to live more like a haughty and fashionable Aunt Rosamund type in the country seat, ushering in the new age for the sake of young Master Crawley in the future- but also being useful for a change and actively running the estate after Lady and Lord Grantham downsize and step back for Roberts better health.**

 **-Banna are probably about to have a baby, but it does not feature in this chapter as an issue as yet.**

 **... I think those are the key points at the moment.**

 **A/N 2:** **I have a feeling that they will be late for dinner at the Ritz for 8pm! This chapter is very heavy on conversation. But, meh...- they can ring ahead and adjust the booking if needed!- a few links and reference notes will be at the bottom again.**

 **A/N 3:** **All of the sights Charles and Elsie are visiting together today would probably only equate to 3-4 kilometres of walking by streets, from my rough reckoning on Google maps. Easy stuff for our heroes on any given day- if they were walking to the village and back, for example. But they are a little tired from last night and the morning in bed, I figure, and traipsing around galleries and the like is quite a lot of mileage for most people, so they have been treated to the wonders of London public transport system in 1926 instead- they are on holiday after all!**

 **A/N 4:** **Many thanks must go to the excellent DA FF writer Edward Carson, for his fiction entitled 'Fear and Loathing'. Many themes regarding Thomas, and also Carson's response to who Thomas is and which I discuss in this fiction in my own sort of way, has been influenced by Edward Carson's piece. I hope i have not inadvertently stolen turns of phrase from this work, but i certainly recognise the similarity of approach I have taken to Elsie and Charles discussing such issues. Anyway- go and read Edward Carson's piece!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **CECECECECE**

 _Downton has always been enough for me… your friendship has always been enough for me, Charles… and now I find that I am just lucky enough to have been given even more than I could ever have hoped for in this life- with you Charles. I have been truly blessed in my life with you, and I have no regrets anymore, Charles- not one. That is what I wanted you to know. That is all."_

 _Charles' heart is full. That he has even managed to listen to all of Elsie's honesty without tears falling from his eyes astounds him, for his emotions with regards to her are so raw and real and readily accessible nowadays, like they are always running riot and rising up through his very skin, and such that he feels all of his control vanish in the overwhelming lightness and brightness of it all. He cannot speak. And though it is not something that Charles would ever have thought he would do in a public place, he grips ever tighter to her hands and leans in close to Elsie's face and kisses her very tenderly upon the lips, for in that moment, what else could he possibly say?_

 _CECECECECE_

 _Silently they rise and walk, Elsie's hand is once more resting in Charles' arm, side by side with the Yorkshireman she loves, they both look long at Elsie's painting of the Yorkshire that they know and love. Side by side- and, just as he had once done for her, Elsie helps him to see and appreciate the storms and the sheer light of life that shapes them and changes them once more._

 **CECECECECE**

It is now late afternoon and in unspoken agreement, Charles and Elsie slowly make their way from the gallery and out into the bright sunshine near the Thames. Seeing a street cart selling some hot bakery items, Charles makes a suggestion.

"Mrs Carson, it is still quite a few more hours until our dinner, would you like something to eat in order to tide us over until then? Then we could take the omnibus over to the Embankment Gardens. I should very much like to see that sculpture with you before the light starts to fade too much."

"Well just something little- perhaps we could share something."

Charles buys them a Cornish pasty and breaks it in half for them. They wander a little along the embankment, and, uncommonly for them, they eat as they walk, watching the bustle of the river as the tide of the Thames slides silently away and rapidly lowers before their eyes, content in each other's silent company. Elsie senses that Charles is mulling on something- and quite deeply, but she knows him well enough not to press him yet. He will come to her when he is ready, of that she is certain. He just offers his handkerchief for Elsie to dust the crumbs from her hands, and which she then uses to swipe lightly at some errant crumbs near his own mouth. He smiles lightly at her loving care for him.

They make their way to the bus stop, and on the way past the gallery once more, Elsie sees another street vendor selling ices. She motions her head in that direction and raises a querying eyebrow.

"We could sit at the top of the bus, Charles, to see the Abbey and Big Ben from there, and I think I should like to share an icecream with you on the way."

Charles smiles at her. "Why not, my dear, you only live once, as they say."

"And we can afford to live well today I think, Mr Carson" Elsie finishes, smiling sweetly at him.

Once they have a vanilla wafer in hand and are seated at the top of the open bus that will take them up the Millbank Road, past the Lambeth Bridge and the Houses of Parliament, the Westminster Bridge and on to the Victoria Embankment Gardens, Elsie leans into Charles just a little more. He is still silently thoughtful and she worries that her words earlier may have unsettled him in some way. She cannot make him out at the moment and all she can offer is the surety of her presence when he is ready.

As the bus rolls past the splendour and immensity of Westminster Abbey, the peal of bells announcing the start of the Evensong service, followed closely by the bright calling of the hour from the tower of Big Ben jolts Charles out of his reverie. It is so very loud when up so close! They smile in wonder at each other. It is a glorious day to be alive and they can feel the very sound of life in the air reverberating through their bodies as they roll past these hard hewn symbols of human praise to something bigger than can ever be fully comprehended in this life. But Elsie and Charles both feel that the very paragon of animals has at least put in quite a laudable showing of its awe of the Lord above in the shape of these fine buildings.

The final thudding, shining ring of the hour vibrates through their bones and settles in a humming shroud around them, battening down Charles' thoughts into his visage once more. Elsie is left wondering again at what he is currently pondering. He is not sad, at least… not exactly, she thinks, but he is certainly worrying on something.

Quietly, she decides to probe him a little."What is it, Charles? What are you thinking on?"

"Hmm..? Oh.. nothing… perhaps… perhaps when we get to the gardens, hmm?...I will tell you."

She cocks an eyebrow at him but says nothing. She just leans a little more into him and tucks her hand into the crook of his arm once again, squeezing lightly at his sinewy muscles beneath his grey day suit as she looks out across the bridge of Westminster and at the statue of Boadicea and her daughters^...Boudicea, whom he had once compared her to...or at least warned her off becoming- when he thought her foolish for keeping secrets and trying to fight the domination of evil men with too small an army- all on her own it had seemed at the time- and all to protect her lass. But Charles was always on her side- even then. And Elsie knows she will always be on his side. He says he will tell her- and he always has- in the end. He has revealed many of his secrets to her- and often times quicker than she herself has been able to reveal her own. Now she hardly even needs to push him. She feels proud to hold his trust. And he will come to her- he has said so, and his word is good.

Elsie settles a little easier for the statues solid reminder to her that they can always come to each other in their need. They always have- in the end. They will face whatever trouble is fomenting in Charles' mind together. And so Elsie stills as she watches the bustle of life keep roll by on the river and the roads.

CECECECECE

Charles assists Elsie down the steep step from the top of the bus as they alight at the Victoria Embankment Gardens. As they silently head towards the York Watergate, they pass an army band playing in the bandstand. Some families are seated around to listen. A few couples dance to the tunes that will allow it, including a father in his Sunday best, with medals on his chest, leading his tentative young daughter around, teaching her gently how to relax into the music and improve her skills on that front. The man looks incredibly proud of his future debutante and it warms Charles and Elsie's hearts with gladness to see at that at least some young men have returned from the war relatively unharmed and able to share in the cycles of life once more.

"Perhaps we might have time for a turn ourselves later, Mr Carson" Elsie asks tentatively.

"Hmm…perhaps." His reply is distracted.

More firmly, Elsie nudges at his arm, "Come on now, Mr Carson, show me that sculpture of yours, and let us sit down so that you can tell me what has made you so pensive."

"Hmmph" is his only reply.

They veer away from the bandstand and head north, meandering along the paths in search of the monument, for Charles has not been here since it was moved from Piccadilly and is not actually sure how far into the gardens it is. It is a large piece, of course, and so it does not take them long to come across it. They stop at some distance from it and look up at it.

"Eros, the Greek god of love." Elsie nudges playfully into his arm. "You really are a bit of a romantic aren't you, Charles?"

"No, not Eros, Elsie, although it is commonly mistaken for him. It is actually Anteros, his brother. You will see his wings are more butterfly-like, and in most representations he has longer hair when compared to Eros."

Elsie eyes the sculpture a bit more closely and waits for Charles to go on.

"I actually read up on it a little when the monument was first unveiled. Anteros is seen, in Christian terms, as the God of Selfless Love, which is why it was chosen to commemorate the works of the 7th Earl of Shaftesbury, for what he did for improving the conditions of the poor and child workers and the like… You see, I also attended the 6th Earl once when he travelled to Lord Shaftesbury's country seat in Dorset, and several times to London when the Earls sat at the House of Lords, before you first came to Downton, Elsie. Lord Shaftesbury was quite old by then, but still a tireless worker."

"I do forget sometimes how much of the inner workings of the nation you have seen because of your work Charles. Lord!- even I have had an audience with the Prince of Wales because of you now! It still boggles my mind!... I am sure you have many, many tales to tell, Charles."

"True enough, Elsie, but you know as well as I that it has rarely been our place to tell them to others. I do recall Lord Shaftesbury as a kind man though, Elsie, akin to the Granthams in his approach to the support of the common man, and I feel he was very deserving of such a monument to his works." Charles snuffs out the smallest of laughs, "It is funny the things you remember, though, Els. I recall being in attendance and Lord Shaftebury spoke very fondly indeed, and on more than one occasion, of his childhood housekeeper, umm..a ..let me think… a Mrs..Millis… yes, that's it- and he still referred to her by that name too, even after all those years… but she must have been long dead by then. He brought her up in some conversations they were having about the law reforms they were working on to curb the opium trade with Asia…and as he was arguing that the devil was in the drug, not in the person that may succumb to using it due to their poor conditions in life- which is where others in the debate were laying the blame and responsibility- they really were just trying to bolster their financial interests in something so very evil, I think. Anyway, I think Mrs Millis must have had much to do with Lord Shaftesbury's upbringing back in those days, for….he.. he talked of how she taught him about Christian love, and that it was not their place to judge their fellow man. Lord Shaftesbury, it seems, took this to mean that it was the role of the peerage to ensure the best conditions for living that they could for others, given their positions of privilege to do so."

"Noble sentiments, indeed, Mr Carson."

"True, but, really, _I_ just think it goes to show the vital importance of having a good housekeeper in your life, don't you think, Mrs Hughes?" And his eyes shine into hers with complete love, and just a little wryness. Elsie eyes smile her appreciation and she squeezes his hand, wanting him to go on.

"Well, I do know just a little bit of the story of Anteros, Charles. He is meant to be the reflective side of Eros, is he not?"

Charles smiles towards Elsie. He is proud and pleased that she is so well read- that they can speak as easy equals about these points of myth and history, filling in little gaps of understanding for one another as needed.

"Yes, reflective and selfless and mature, whereas Eros is seen as the younger, more frivolous and sensual kind of love. The Greek Gods made Anteros as a playmate for Eros, so the myth goes, for it was felt that for love to prosper it must be reciprocated. Anteros was born to balance Eros, to allow for the fact that true love should not be tyrannical in intent nor can it thrive if it is unrequited- that it should be reflected back in equal measure… so Anteros is the God of Requited Love, really…." He pauses for a while. "I must say that I am most grateful for the access we have had to His Lordships library, for you know that he read Philosophy at Oxford, and so his collection in that area is quite broad indeed. At the time I looked up all this information about the monument, it allowed me to find some words that Plato is to have said about it, and I guess your words to me in the gallery have brought them all back to me, Elsie,… brought it all into sharper focus…so that I can understand it better now than I once did…Hmm… Shall we sit?"

Charles motions to a nearby bench still graced with some remaining bright shards of sunlight filtering thoughts the trees. Elsie nods her agreement, glad that he has actually opened up to her, but still a little surprised at the depth of his interest in the sculpture and the stories of Greek mythology. They settle close to one another once more, forming their own private space in public that has become so easy for them now that they know they will not be interrupted by the needs of anyone else or by anyone known to them.

"Go on Charles, what of Plato's words then?" she prompts him.

Charles speak quietly and softly to her. "Well,… Plato explained the nature of the emotion that Anteros is meant to represent as being the result of great love for another… that… beauty… _inspires_ and fills the lover with a divine love, and that in turn fills the soul of the beloved with love in return- …so…it is…a counter-love." Elsie's eyes are glimmering as she looks on Charles face, but she is holding her breath as he still looks towards the statue and continues. "So, as a result, the loved one falls in love with the lover, though that love is only spoken of as …as friendship, Elsie." And he turns to her then, his eyes shining too. His voice is rasped, "and they experience pain when the two are apart, and relief when they are together… the mirror image of the lover's feelings*… and that is Anteros…and… and…Elsie, that is really how I felt when I was about to go to Haxby." He looks down at their joined hands then, trying to hold his emotions in check once more. "Yes I regretted having to leave Downton, but more so, I desperately regretted having to leave _you_ then, Mrs Hughes, …it was always you, and I truly know that now… and it is the same every year when I have to come to London and be away from you, Elsie."*

"Oh Charles, "she whispers as some tears actually do trail down her cheeks, "me too, you old _Booby_ ," and she shakingly draws in a laugh to try to control her overflowing emotions and her brogue is thick with it "you really are the world's biggest romantic, I've no doubt of it now." And she ducks her head a little in order to give him her watery, smiling eyes, filled with all of her heart as she raises her hand up to cup the side of his face, brushing a small tear from the corner of his eye.

He is looking down at their hands once more and he surprises her when he barrels onward with his thoughts.

"But there is more to it now Elsie…I… I am tired of it. I am old and I am just _so very_ tired of it all and I just don't want to do it anymore." He sound so broken. "And unlike you, I do have some regrets still… that I could not tell you sooner how I love you, and especially that I did not find the courage to ask you to marry me earlier- especially after our day at the beach. Why did I leave it for two minutes more, let alone for over two years? I kick myself for it. I am tired for all the things I have missed out on, and that I couldn't, in some way, have had that younger love with you too…"

She abruptly cuts him off. "Now you listen to me, Charles Carson," she states firmly, "if the last twenty-four hours should have taught us anything, it is that we most certainly have _not_ missed out on that love that Eros is meant to represent!" And she smiles broadly at him until she sees the glitter return to his morose eyes. "Now then, that's better…" she says with great gentleness. "Charles, love,…we have just approached it all… in reverse, you and I, so _don't_ you think on it again, and do not regret it for one minute more- for you know that it is deeper for us because of it- because it is based on that full love and friendship we have built over all these years together. Besides which, I do know well enough that you could not ask me to marry earlier, not in our positions in the household, and certainly not with all that mess going on with Anna and Mr Bates about Green, and not to mention the ongoing messes that the Crawley girls always manage to get themselves into." Elsie rolls her eyes to the heavens, "Hupphh… Lord _knows_ that you would never think that His Lordship and Her Ladyship had instilled _any_ sense of decorum into those girls sometimes- I wonder that they were even dropped into the correct family sometimes!- the way they have skirted and overstepped the edges of what is appropriate for _any_ Lady, even in _these_ modern times- I sometimes think they have no sense at all and it irks me that with all their privilege they have come so close to throwing all of that good fortune away time after time, even Lady Sybil with Mr Branson in those early days! And meanwhile, our Anna has been so steadfast and honest and true in all her actions, and yet has had all of that goodness trampled on so very many times…"

"A bit like Job," he muses, almost to himself. "…Well,… the Lord works in mysterious ways, that much seems true, Mrs Carson." Charles interjects quietly.

"Aye," she sighs out, " that must be it, I suppose," shaking her head at the unfairness of it all. "Nevertheless, there you have it, the whole thing for Anna and Mr Bates was on tenterhooks- and we both knew it Charles- His Lordship and Her Ladyship could well have decided that enough support of the Bateses was enough- the potential scandal too large, and that could have been it for both of them. So there really was no stable ground for you to make a stand for me, Charles, and I knew as much. So, although it frustrated me _no end_ , I understand it and so you shan't be regretting _that_ fact anymore with me either, Charles Carson… And besides which, with that time we have at least managed to set ourselves up well for our own retirement- when we so choose it," then more quietly, she finishes, tightening her grip on his hands "I told you that we cannot change the past, and nor would I, Charles, for I am here now, and you are here now, and it is the very best of times for us, Charles, surely you can see that… So, let's not have any more of all _that_ , hmm…" and she smiles brightly at him, but with some concern still playing in her eyes.

He huffs out a wry laugh at her loving and very level headed tirade against him. "As you wish, Milady," and he smiles a little sheepishly at her, for the memories of their night and morning together…and just for the blinding truth of her.

"But what are you _really_ tired of, Charles? Tell me." She thinks she knows, but she needs him to say it in so many words.

And this is where his sadness truly rises.

Almost guiltily, he tentatively reveals what is making his heart so heavy.

"I…I… oh Elsie, I am just _so tired_ ," he sighs out heavily. "I'm tired of attending to others' needs. I am tired of being away from you for the season. I am tired of everything I want now in life being interrupted by others demands, and even if we run Brounker Road as a little guest house- that will still happen to us… and I don't know if I even want _that_ anymore, even if it is by your side, Elsie, and I feel bad that I should feel this way about _all_ of those things." He looks down at his large open palms cradled in her feather soft and strong hands. "Yet, at the same time, Elsie, I am tired of seeing everything I have worked so hard to uphold- the high standards for Downton, all that that represents about what is good and great about the Estate… and about England… really…I... I just see it all slipping through my fingers," and he lifts his open palms up a little in helplessness, his eyes full of heavy unshed tears. "It's like…like… everything I have worked for-everything _we_ have worked for- is just turning to dust- and that soon, no one will care for it _at all_ anymore. And I just _hate_ not having the staff we need to truly maintain it all anyway, even at its current simpler standard… and I know, …I know" he raises his hands in acquiescence of the truth, "I know that everything has changed since the war, and that even I said there is no point to living if we don't let life change us, … but I just don't _want_ to be the one to change myself and my standards to ring in _these_ sorts of changes… And...and then I _know_ it is making me crabby all the time and hard to be with and I hate that I cannot seem to stop it and that it annoys you so when I get like that,… but I just don't want to have to manage it all anymore. But then I still feel that it is still my duty to His Lordship to try and support Lady Mary as she tries to steer this vast ship into this unknown future, just like His Lordship had to after the 6th Earl died and the Estate was in such trouble then.' He looks up to her then, "… but… but, Elsie Love, I also need you to know, that I _really_ meant what I said to you in our vows, and last night… I truly _want_ to forsake all others for you...I _am_ indentured solely to you now, I _do_ want nothing more than to attend to _all_ your needs.. to… to see you happy.. I want to make you so very happy- I still have that left in me at least," and he gives her a shaky wry smile, "but...I just feel…so …so _stuck_ …" he looks forlornly into her eyes once more. "I just don't feel like I am the man to help the estate anymore, and it grieves me… terribly…but I don't know who else could do it ….I…I…just don't know what to do, anymore, Els…"

He looks absolutely stricken. But Elsie smiles brightly at him- elatedly even.

"Oh Charles, my dear man! Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, indeed, hmm?"

He finally looks properly at her, utterly perplexed by her bright and shining smile in this moment.

"Dear Charles- my man. You don't _have_ to carry it all anymore, and you most certainly do not have to feel bad about that fact. We have so many options, really we do, you just haven't _seen_ them yet."

"What can you possibly mean, Elsie?"

"Well, for a start, you have Mr Barrow who can take over for you."

"Bah! Barrow is not to be trusted with supporting Lady Mary into the future!"

"I very much beg to differ, Mr Carson."

"But he will bring scandal upon the house, of that I am sure! He has proven himself to be self-serving and manipulative more times than I care to count, and that he has avoided losing his job on far more than one occasion utterly astounds me to this day."

"Hear me out, please Mr Carson, for I feel that I may see other sides to our Thomas that you have not yet been able to see."

"Hmmph.. He is _not '_ Our Thomas' _,_ Elsie."

"Oh, tosh, Charles! We could not have picked and chosen which children we would have in our lives any more than His lordship and Her Ladyship could have chosen the make-up of their own three daughters, but that does not mean that any of us can forsake them just because they disappoint us at times. Why do you think I helped Ethel the way I did? Can you not see it that it was right of me to do so?"

"Ethel may have been immensely foolish, but she was not, at her heart, a wicked person, even _I_ can see that.. and I did recognise it as just your bull-headed loving way of things, even at the time."

"But who is to say that Thomas is a truly wicked person, Charles?"

"Well, his actions over the years show it for a start…and he is in the eyes of the Lord… _and_ the Law, need I remind you!"

"Maybe so… but it is a human law that was designed to say it, and many laws have been proved pointless in the past and changed… and you yourself said that the Lord moves in mysterious ways. If that is so with the play of Anna's life, might that not also be the case with the likes of people like Thomas? And I _do_ believe he has changed some, Charles, and he has even told me that he is changing his ways with dealing with people- trying to be his better self, and that it hurts him when he is still seen only as who he once was. He seems to have developed a strong friendship with Miss Baxter even, and I know for a fact that it has somehow grown out of some very rocky beginnings between them, indeed. So he _has_ grown and he _has_ changed, Charles. He is trying to be a better man, even if you have not seen it yet…. He has some weight of years behind him now, and I think that he is actually less angry at the world, and a little wiser to himself. He is actually very close to the age you were when you became Butler, when you think of it, Charles."

"But he has not changed _that_ about himself. Has he, Elsie?"

"No, … no,…I do not suppose that he has, Charles," she replies quietly. They sit quietly with their thoughts for a moment, before Elsie continues, tentatively. "Charles,… I do not know that he actually _can_ change that though, for I understand that he may have already tried very hard indeed to do so…

Charles,… I once told you once he was not the first of his type that I had met, and… I do not claim to understand it, or like the thought of it, or even approve of it, Charles…But, it _has_ seemed to me, with people like Thomas, that it is just something that is _within_ them, for, I do not imagine that anyone truly _wants_ to live outside of what the rest of society sees as appropriate or abides by, so I can only guess that it is somehow _in_ Thomas' nature, and that for some reason, outside of our understanding perhaps, it is his lot in life to live with that nature and to make his way in the world as best he can with it. And I surely do not envy him that, for it cannot be easy knowing that you may not ever find a love like others have, a love such as we are lucky enough to have, Charles…and a love that happens to be natural for _us_."

Charles remains silent.

"Charles, if you have read a little of Classical philosophy, you must know that in Ancient Greek culture, these things were not necessarily so…admonished…shall we say, and I am not saying that they were right about such things… but equally, how can we ever be so certain of our stance on what we believe is right and wrong in this life- in _our_ here and now? Are we not all just trying to find a way to explain the world around us…and to live in it as best we can with our fellow man?"

"Timagoras and Meles," Charles says quietly, almost to himself.

"Hmm? How's that, Charles?"

"Oh…umm.. I was reminded of an altar…Elsie, set up to honour Anteros in ancient Athens. I read of it at the time I was looking into all this about the monument…and I just forgot it as an item of Greek excess and idolatry…and it just disgusted me really… I did not care to dwell on it with thinking about it at the time…But, the story is that, supposedly, Timagoras loved Meles but was mocked by that man and so Timagoras threw himself down a cliff when his love was not requited, and then in repentance for his own cruelty, Meles also threw himself down the same rock… At the time I briefly thought that it served them both right…"

"Well, I hardly think any of us needs to be throwing ourselves off any cliffs for the sake of Mr Barrow, Charles!… Hmm…But… perhaps that story is to remind us not to spurn him quite so readily… in his way of trying to find some sort of love in this world…." Elsie sighs long. "All that I know… is that I can see our Thomas still leaning out for _some kind_ of love in this world, and maybe it is not always the love of another man anymore… and that is the goodness in him, that he keeps on searching… for friendship, at the very least- like with helping Andy to get on at the house, and to read- for I do not think he was searching for any more than friendship on that front, despite some of our fears for the young lad's innocence. And surely, you must see it, Charles, in the way Thomas is like a kind Uncle to young Master Crawley now? …Did you not try to find love again in your life after Alice with your connection to Lady Mary?"

"I suppose so…But I did not think you approved of my connection to Lady Mary, Elsie?"

"Oh Charles, I am not _quite_ so unforgiving, well…at least …I hope not! Granted, she has annoyed me immensely over the years, with all her haughty demands on you, and everyone else around her, truth be told…and I abhor her blatant meanness to some people at times- and even her direct unkindness to you sometimes- which I know has been completely unwarranted. She is an inherently foolish girl, it seems to me."

"But she has great spirit, Elsie, perhaps _you_ do not see that?"

"Oh, but I will indeed grant you that. She rises time and again from the ashes of her own messes it seems. I think there is more than a little of the Dowager's indomitable spirit in that one, to be sure… not to mention the inherent need to be right or to have the last word!" she says with a knowing but humorous smile."But, Charles, even I am not so blind as to see that she has a very high regard for you…and I cannot begrudge you what affection you have for her that is just a natural part of _you._ She may be no favourite of mine, but she is a hurting soul in many ways… like Thomas really… and that is another reason I think that Mr Barrow is well suited to stand at her side as Downton moves forward. And besides, on a completely mercenary level… well almost…her regard for you might just serve _our_ best interests in the long run.

"I don't understand at all what you mean, Elsie… you sound like you have been plotting something."

"Not plotting, as such, just mulling over different scenarios for a while… and waiting to see where you were standing on certain things. If I have learnt nothing else in all these years, I have at least learnt to be patient with regards to us, I think, Mr Carson!... And I will not push your final decision on these matters, but equally, I will not hold back from stating a case that I think makes sense for us, based on where I currently see your head is at. And I know you to be a man who is open to being convinced of different ideas, Charles… and I do love you so for that, no matter what we end up doing together, remember that."

"All right, Elsie,… go on…and I shall try to keep an open mind."

"Thank you, a chagair.. for I only want what is best for us first, but also for Downton in the long run. ..You see, I guess I was thinking on it on the train yesterday Charles…well, not all of this, just that idea that Lady Mary and Thomas are somewhat akin to one another….Well, anyway, you see,... we have both seen, for quite a while now that Thomas, is ready to learn more from you and to take on the role of Butler- at least somewhere, and he has had to be keeping an eye out for a position as you know. And you have to admit that he is whip-smart and a very keen observer of all that is going on around him…"

"Cunning, is more the like, I would say," Charles interjects.

"In the _past_ , yes, I'll not deny that at all, Charles, but equally, he has learnt a lot over the years just from quietly watching you at work, Charles, and I do not think it would take much direct instruction in the intricate vagaries of your work to bring him fully up to speed with the household, and he would have access to all your butler's diaries and the like. But these great houses, as you said so yourself, they are not what they once were, and his chances are limited on ever getting a position elsewhere. Many don't even seem to keep _any_ permanent staff it seems- all of our days appear numbered."

"Well, you have yet to convince me that Thomas is worthy of holding the secrets of the house, even if he is capable of the work, which I will concede he does have the skills for, with a bit of fine tuning, to be sure…but what do you mean, he is _akin_ to Lady Mary?" Charles asks, with quite a note of distaste in his tone.

"Well, I hope I can make this sound like some sort of sense…you see, it was strange on the train yesterday, Charles. I had time to ponder a great many things it seems, and it struck me at one point that both Thomas and Lady Mary have grown up never feeling that they are quite good enough for what the world has set out for them. Thomas' _nature_ , if we are to think of it in that way, sets him outside of what is expected of a man in the world. He is alone and lonely, and he must surely live with a sense that he will never _truly_ fit in anywhere. And all I know… is that he appreciates the few grounding roots he has managed to put down for himself at Downton, he has told me as much, and I think he finally wants those roots to be more stable for him… But then on the other hand, Lady Mary, when you think on it, has also grown up with a sense that she will never quite be good enough. She was born a girl, when the entail required a boy to succeed his Lordship and keep the Estate in the family. And although I do not credit either His Lordship, or Her Ladyship with ever purposely or openly making Lady Mary feel bad for this, these things do hang heavily in the air of a great house, and Lady Mary could not have avoided feeling that she was always a disappointment in some way- not quite what the Estate really needed. I mean, really,… she spent years knowing she would need to marry a cousin to keep the Estate safe for the rest of the family to stay in, and when that failed with Mr Patrick's death, she was expected to marry to the highest bidder and support the rest of the family somehow through that, it seems. Thank God for Master Matthew, really, for at least he finally saw to it the Lady Mary got what should have been hers all along- you said yourself that the entail was a wicked law, and you were right. And I do hate that Lady Mary lost poor Master Crawley… no one deserves that kind of grief so young in life, and I think that the Estate might be in a very different place today if he had lived on. He was a good match for her…"

"He truly was at that, Elsie. I don't think there are many men that would be such a match for Lady Mary… but you will say that I am being biased in my opinion of her again, I am sure."

"No, Charles, I think you are being quite accurate in that assessment, although perhaps I think it more because she is such a bally great handful to deal with and Master Crawley seemed to be equal to _that_ task!" she looks at Charles affectionately.

He huffs a small laugh and his eyes glint in appreciation at her good humour. He is at least glad of Elsie's honesty and a certain generosity to Lady Mary's particular circumstances.

"But more than that Charles, Lady Mary _can_ run this Estate well into the future, and she will not be afraid of the changes she will have to make…the ones that would have grieved his Lordship too much to probably follow through with. But even _I_ can credit Lady Mary with feeling as deeply for any radical cutting up of the Estate that has troubled His Lordship over the years. I do not think she will be rash in her decision making. But also think on it now, Charles, Mr Branson is back to stay, and he is a good strong influence on Lady Mary. I fancy he has a far leveller head on his shoulders than when he first arrived at Downton. He has mellowed, and he has a very good business head and he will not be easily cowed by Lady Mary's opinions if he thinks that she is wrong. They have done well together in the past and I believe that they shall again."

"All of that is good sense, Elsie. And I too am glad that Mr Branson has returned. He has done Lady Sybil very proud indeed, he cares as much for other people as she once did and I believe him to be a good man…But I still cannot see Mr Barrow fitting in with what the Estate and the family need of a Butler."

"Well, my thinking is that the role will make the man, Charles. It made you who you are, to be sure, but differently… because you were and are different men to begin with. Being a Butler has made you stronger and more confident, I fancy, …and stalwart, and you developed a keen sense of propriety for all occasions- for I know that you are a hopeless liar, Charles, but you are certainly the keeper of a great many secrets- and you and I both know that that is what, unfortunately, is needed to run a successful household like the Granthams in this kind of world. And Thomas, instead, is all outward confidence and secrecy first, but the role of Butler will force him to act with a level of honesty for the family, because now it will absolutely be his livelihood that will be affected if he ever betrays a trust again. It may not be a perfect way to approach the role, but it will work, I believe. I think Thomas well knows the importance of holding close counsel for Lady Mary, and there is a myriad of secrets in that girl's heart that could lead to hers, and others ruin, of that I am sadly sure. But, likewise, Thomas has always had to hold so much of his own nature in check and has had to hide many secrets in order to avoid ruin. If he does learn more of any indiscretions on the part of Lady Mary, I believe he will understand the origins of those actions, and certainly the need to protect the whole Estate's position by keeping it all under wraps. I do believe that the two are a match, intellectually, and personality wise- and that I think is important, for I see that you have had your own affinity with his Lordship that way over the years. You can speak on equal terms with His Lordship, you are both educated and widely read, and I fancy that if it were not for you being indentured as a servant to His Lordship, that you both would have been openly very good and equal friends in a different type of world. And I think that that is what may be developed between Mr Barrow and Lady Mary, given enough time. Does that sound like an accurate assumption, Charles."

"Hmm… I accede to the truth of my relations with His Lordship, as I have often been called on to speak quite freely as his equal on certain matters of outside import, even if no final decisions ever come to rest with me outside of the day to day running of the household to support him….But, …I will need to think on it all, though, Elsie- it is a lot to take in all at once."

"Of course it is. And it has been a lot to say, Mr Carson! Look how the light has faded."

"Yes, we ought to be going if we are going to make it back to the hotel on time," Charles says as he checks his pocket watch. "But you do have some other little plot up your sleeve, I know you well, Mrs Hughes," and he gives her a knowing, faux suspicious stare. "And you have spoken nothing about where this little scenario of yours might leave you and I, nor why you were grinning so happily at me just when I told you of my woes."

Charles rises and offers Elsie his arm and they start walking back towards the bandstand and the entrance gates of the gardens.

"Oh Charles, don't you know? I have only had all of these thoughts, and I was only smiling so broadly at you, because…well, I want exactly what you want now, my love," and she squeezes his arm firmly, and he looks down towards her still smiling face and reaches his free hand to cover hers in equal affection. "I just want to spend what time I have left on this earth with _you_ ," and she smiles even more broadly up at him again. "And I most certainly do not want spend my time overseeing the cleaning of the Abbey as the family diminishes and moves into only one wing and then the home permanently becomes a museum for the masses, for it is surely on the cards. And, I was just not cut out to be a curator, Charles, any more than you are cut out to be a tour guide, although I would wager your knowledge of the house's artworks and fittings is unsurpassed… but, like you, I also hate that I cannot keep up the standards of excellence I used to in the housekeeping due to the lack of staff. And really, I just want to retire with you and not be constantly at someone else's beck and call while trying to hold all of this changing mess together, I do not want to see all this scaling back happen under my watch- I think this change is a job for the young, and I am not ashamed to feel that way, and nor should you be, a chagair. We have paid our dues, you and I, and I do not think anyone will begrudge us a little freedom now-…finally!- not His Lordship, or Her Ladyship and I do not think even the Blessed Lady Mary will begrudge _you_ a happy retirement, Mr Carson!"

And at those words he stops and turns to her to him, his heart filling his eyes once more and relief and happiness washing over his face. They have reached the area where the army band is still playing some tunes, but the crowd around them has thinned as families have returned home for supper in the fading midsummer light

"Well, I am not quite sure how this will all play out just yet, but if you please, Mrs Carson, I shall be glad to have you tell me of your cunning plan for us over dinner at the Ritz, does that suit your current arrangements for this evening?."

"Well now, I am flattered, but unfortunately there may be a slight clash, for I was rather under the impression that I had already invited a certain crabby old butler, one Carson, of Downton Abbey, Yorkshire out to dinner at the Ritz this evening. But, I do hope that he may be amenable to you joining us, my dear Mr Carson, provided of course that you can behave yourself at table tonight!" And Elsie raises a bemused but wicked eyebrow at him in askance.

Without warning, Charles pulls Elsie impulsively into a spin on the dance space, making her gasp with pleasant surprise.

"You said maybe we should have a turn about the floor before we go, Mrs Carson." Charles smiles his cheekiest, happiest smile at her as he spins her fluidly around, held tight in his loving arms. He looks intensely into her eyes and asks her quietly, "How is it you always know what I need to hear, a chagair? How do you always manage to pull me out of my worst self and make me feel like I can do no wrong with you?"

"Oh, my love," she says seriously, returning his steady gaze, "a chagair, I was merely reflecting what we both want back onto you. _You_ are the one who compared us to Anteros, after all,... you lovely, big and romantic old duffer!" and she cannot keep the broad smile from her face when she is in his arms this way.

And Charles hums contentedly as she holds him even tighter at his shoulder and fervently squeezes her other hand to his from within his great and gentle grip.

 **CECECECECE**

 **Assorted Author Notes:**

 **^ In time, I do intend to address this _Boadicea_** **backstory I have decided to slot in here (15/11/16 edit)- mainly because the idea occurred to me after initially publishing this chapter- and then I realised that Charles and Elsie would actually pass by this statue (erected in 1902) outside Big Ben on their day trip today. It will be filled in in a separate, but affiliated 'canon re-jigged' story I think- looking at the events of Season 4 and the secrets Elsie uneasily held back from Charles at that time.**

 **-Most details about the Earl of Shaftesbury and the Piccadilly monument was derived from good ol' wikipedia.**

 **wiki/Shaftesbury_Memorial_Fountain**

 **wiki/Anteros**

 **-Timeline wise, the 7th Earl of Shaftesbury would have been a contemporary of Robert Crawley's father, so I think it reasonable that Charles was in attendance as valet or butler to the 6th Earl of Grantham in the 1880s-** **wiki/Anthony_Ashley-Cooper,_7th_Earl_of_Shaftesbury**

 **-There was one other website, which I forgot to get the link for and now cannot find, that was the basis of Charles explanation of Anteros courtesy of Plato- I probably didn't paraphrase it as well as I could have, but I appreciate those other words, no matter who wrote them originally!**

 **-This is the York Watergate I refer to in the Embankment Gardens-** **wiki/York_House,_Strand**

 **-Google maps is lots of fun to play around with if you want a visual walk through the Victoria Embankment Gardens, or all of Chelsie's outing really- for that is what I used to help me plot this little story so far. Have fun! :)**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Please leave a review if you have time, it means an awful lot to me to receive them.**

 **Thanks for reading so far!**

 **BorneToFlow**


	26. Chapter 26- Adorned

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 26- Adorned**

 _"Well, I am not quite sure how this will all play out just yet, but if you please, Mrs Carson, I shall be glad to have you tell me of your cunning plan for us over dinner at the Ritz, does that suit your current arrangements for this evening?."_

 _"Well now, I am flattered, of course, but unfortunately there may be a slight clash, for I was rather under the impression that I had already invited a certain crabby old butler, one Carson, of Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, out to dinner at the Ritz this evening. But, I do hope that he may be amenable to you joining us, my dear Mr Carson, provided of course that you can behave yourself at table tonight!" And Elsie raises a bemused but wicked eyebrow at him in askance._

 _Without warning, Charles pulls Elsie impulsively into a spin on the dance space, making her gasp with pleasant surprise._

 _"You said maybe we should have a turn about the floor before we go, Mrs Carson." Charles smiles his cheekiest, happiest smile at her as he spins her fluidly around, held tightly in his loving arms. He looks intensely into her eyes and asks her quietly, "How is it you always know what I need to hear, a chagair? How do you always manage to pull me out of my worst self and make me feel like I can do no wrong with you?"_

 _"Oh, my love," she says seriously, returning his steady gaze, "a chagair, I was merely reflecting what we both want back onto you._ _You_ _are the one who compared us to Anteros, after all,... you lovely, big and romantic old duffer!" and she cannot keep the broad smile from her face when she is in his arms this way._

 _And Charles hums contentedly as she holds him even tighter at his shoulder and fervently squeezes her other hand to his from within his great and gentle grip._

 **CECECECECE**

 ***Adorn: to add to the beauty or glory of something or somebody.**

Elsie and Charles maintain a contented silence in the motor-taxi ride back to the Ritz Hotel, sitting close to one another, Elsie arm tucked in its now completely customary place at Charles elbow, watching the sights of the city roll past as they turn up the Whitehall and onto Regent Street before continuing back down Piccadilly to Green Park. It has been a lovely day of easy togetherness and strengthening understanding of one another. They arrive back at The Ritz with about an hour to prepare for their dinner booking.

Elsie and Charles share a brief and tender kiss once in the privacy of their suite again in mutual thanks for such a lovely day out together. They then separate to their dressing rooms to freshen up and change for the evening. Elsie now has at least one more occasion in her life to wear her very fine wedding dress, and once more utilises the services of the room-maid to set her hair and help with dressing.

Once Charles has readied himself in his evening white tie and tails, he knocks tentatively at Elsie's dressing room door. Elsie was just dismissing Diana so she welcomes him in. It strikes her that the situation is much like the regular routines of His Lordship and Her Ladyship's evenings at the Abbey. It is still strange to her that she and Charles should see and experience the other side of this life for the first time- or at all really! Hands clasped behind his back, Charles walks up behind Elsie's dressing chair, and catches her eyes in the mirror. She thinks he looks a little nervous, but there is also a tease of recognition between them, for the lovemaking they enjoyed in this very room last night, and they smile at one another with quite some happy pride.

"Ah-humm…Elsie, I…I have something for you for tonight... " Charles starts quietly, "I hope you do not mind… "

"What is it, Charles?" she looks up at him- a little perplexed.

He takes his hands from behind his back then and reaches around from the back of her chair to hand her a slim, flat, royal blue velvet case. Their fingers brush lightly together in the exchange.

"Oh Charles," she breathes out, "what have you gone and done?" No man has ever given her a gift of jewellery before.

He looks down nervously and the fingers of one of his hands near his thigh flutters a little as he tries to contain his feelings somehow, or at least tries to focus on _something_ so as to control his voice for what he has to say next.

"I don't know if you remember the exact day it happens to be today Elsie. It is a special day for you... and for me too, really. Did you know?"

"Well, if you mean it is the first full day of our married life together, then I would agree, it is a very special day for us." And she looks up into his reflected eyes with bright and happy love shining in hers. Elsie's fingers stroke lightly at the plush softness of the gift box, but she does not open it yet.

"Well…yes , that is true… and that is certainly part of it, Elsie. But …."he trails off.

"What is all this for, a chagair?" she asks quietly. Elsie can feel her heart quivering inside her chest with tenderness for him and with anticipation- almost a strange fear.

"Well,…you see, I was looking back through one of my old Butler's diaries, after we had set the date for our wedding, because it had struck me that we have worked together for so very long... and I wanted to know exactly when we had actually started working side by side – as Butler and Housekeeper- because I knew for you, it is thirty years this year as housekeeper… and I thought it was worth commemorating that anniversary- for when you officially took over the role. Do you recall it yourself?"

"Well, I cannot say I have even given the fact that it is thirty years any thought, Charles, much less the actual date I took over… My, my…ha!.. Thirty Years! Time does fly, does it not?" And she holds his eyes intensely within the glass.

"Yes…it certainly does," Charles replies quietly. "But it was actually only eleven months from when you arrived at Downton as Head Housemaid… on that rainy day in Autumn of '95... and today is the exact day, my love. May the 30th, 1896… that is when it all began, our time together at the helm – so to speak…and… I did initially think to give this to you before the wedding because the days are so uncannily close together… but… even though we weren't going to be anywhere so fine as this day has turned out to be- just somewhere simple in Scarborough…I… I wanted to mark the exact day for you…and I wanted it to be just for us, Elsie…and no one else…" he says as he looks down at his own hands, a little red faced and embarrassed for his sentimentality. Then very quietly, as he looks back to the mirror, he tentatively requests,"Please open it, Mrs Hughes," he whispers. And he looks nervously and longingly into her eyes.

Elsie's hands are shaking slightly as she lifts the lid.

"Oh…" she stops breathing for many seconds. "Oh, Charles… "

"Well…do you like it?" he asks nervously, his face looking concerned- much as it did when he asked her to marry him, for he has never given any lady a piece of jewellery before.

"A chagair…" her eyes are glistening- she is overwhelmed, "it is beautiful... it is… I…I have never owned _anything_ like it…but…but, this must have cost you a small fortune, Charles…" then she finally drags her eyes from the beautiful necklace in the box to look up into his eyes. "How?…How could you possibly manage this?"

He does not answer to that.

"Pearls are for thirty years for a wedding anniversary, Elsie, so I thought it was a fair choice for this occasion too. May I?" and he gestures to help her put on the short double strand choker of cultured pearls with an embellished clasp made in a bold design from clear Bohemian crystals set around a small rectangular, light sapphire blue crystal in the centre that is to sit to one side of the hollow of her neck. It is decidedly modern with its Art Deco geometric shaping at the clasp, not overly large, but understated and elegant. Elsie just nods for Charles to proceed, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"There." He says as he finishes adjusting the clasp to the front of her neck and looks up into the glass at her glistening eyes "What do you think?"

Her throat thick with emotion, Elsie can barely speak. "I… I never expected ... Charles…and…and I just never expected anything from you- not for me just doing my job as housekeeper…Why, Charles? We do not earn this sort of money. Why have you given me something so very fine?" and now a teardrop does slide down her cheek.

"Because you deserve it, Elsie" he replies simply and moves quickly to the front of her chair, reaching for her hands to draw her up to him, then uses his fresh white handkerchief to dab at her damp cheek. Then he looks deep into her eyes.

"And because you have been my partner for thirty years already, Elsie- by my side… and it is because we won't make it to thirty years as partners in our marriage- not now – not at our ages- more is the pity. But, I wanted you to know that I would have wanted that so very much indeed- and much more besides- if only we could have… and… mainly it is because I have never seen you _ever_ wear a necklace… and…" he looks down like a nervous school boy, "…and…I just wanted to be the man to give you one….Please tell me you approve…Elsie…" he requests, a note of trepidation in his low humming baritone, as he looks up to see her shimmering blue eyes again.

Her voice is shaky with barely held emotion that thickens in her full accent. "Well…I don't know what to say, Charles…you…you seem to have come on this honeymoon armed with a full quiver of feathers with which to repeatedly knock me down."

"Now then, Mrs Hughes!' he says more brightly, "that actually sounds very much like you know what to say!" Charles replies with laughter in his eyes. And she laughs out loud then.

"I just can't believe it Charles! It is so _very_ beautiful…it is the finest thing anyone has ever given me- and I have been given so very many very fine things these last few days...But Charles, you must _absolutely_ assure me you have not dug into your retirement savings too much to do this- or I will not have it- you mark me on that," and says very sternly and eyes him closely with a serious glare.

"Oh Elsie, what have I had to spend my money on all these years I have been kept at the Abbey?! Hmm? I live as simply as you do- you have never even known me to even go to a fair! I have no family to spend my money on, I barely own any books, and, yes, I have bought the makings of a small cellar's worth of our favourite wines slowly over time, but nothing excessive… and although we have never spoken of our _exact_ financial positions, I could have easily bought Brouncker Road entirely from my own account and still asked you to marry me in the end…but I knew that you would not want that… and I wanted us to stay as equal partners in that business anyway, just as we have always been at the Abbey. And I can also assure you, Mrs Carson, that the price of pearls has dropped quite markedly in recent years, so I am not going to be mortgaging my headstone in order to pay for it once I am gone…"

Then he continues more quietly, "It is yours entirely, Elsie- I do want you so very much to have it… I…I like to see you in the midst of fine things- for that is how I have always known you at the Abbey- and I just wanted you to finally own a piece of it…and…well...it does suit you ever so much, pretty Elspeth…And I love that today you do get to actually wear it with your wedding gown, too," he finishes looking with desperate anticipation at her for a response.

"But Charles, when on earth would I ever wear it again?"

Somewhat exasperated now, "You can wear it forever after under your shabbiest housecoat if that is what pleases you, Elsie! I don't care! It is yours to do with as you wish… although… I _would_ hope we can find some occasions in our short lives for you to wear it out of an evening again. … _Now_ will you  please keep it?..."

"Oh, I am sorry, Charles, I did not mean to sound so very ungrateful. You just overwhelm me so. Of _course_ I will keep it!" And she stands on her tip toes and reaches up to kiss him repeatedly across his soft and cleanly shaven chin and cheeks from in between her words of endearment. "You… lovely … sweet… dear…man…a chagair…" and she finishes by pressing a heavy and loving kiss to his now beaming, smiling mouth. Charles falls helplessly into her kiss and moans greedily as it quickly turns passionate. They finally have to break away to draw breath and they stare dark and wide-eyed at one another.

"Oh Elsie," Charles groans out deep and low. "As much as it pains me, if we do not go down to dinner now, I am afraid we will end up skipping yet another meal today." And he kisses her quickly once more on the lips, but draws himself pointedly away from her, lest he falls utterly under the power of her elegant charms again.

"That actually sounds ve _rr_ y enticing, Mr Carson, but you are right, we should go…" and she sighs with a beguiling note of disappointment in her rolling honeyed brogue.

Elsie takes the handkerchief from Charles and uses it to remove her rouge from his lips and cheeks. Then she re-applies some more to freshen her own lips before pulling on her gloves and retrieving her purse from the dresser. She precedes Charles out to their valet stand for him to help her with her plush coat. As he does so in front of the foyer mirror, he cannot help himself- he needs to touch it. He watches the slow reflection of his two fingertips running over the smooth bumps of the tracks of her pearl necklace. His tongue runs lightly over his own bottom lip at the sensation.

Elsie looks into his darkened eyes. "It is a very modern choice, Mr Carson, but you do have impeccable taste in jewels," she says huskily.

He continues to caress and lightly press the perfectly rounded pearl buds into her supple neck. His low and gravelled voice intones to her, "I chose it because it reminded me of us…two uniform strands sitting long together- thirty years, side by side…" his fingers move down to trace the clear and blue crystal clasp, "and a lifetime's worth of polished crystalware for me, and everything is held together by the light of your crystal clear blue eyes on a bright midsummer's day." His eyes close as he leans in to smell her fresh hair at the side of her head as his other arm encircles her at her waist and draws her back closer to him. "Elspeth" he draws her name out in a whisper near her ear as he feels a shiver run down her spine as it rests against his starched shirtfront. "My love…"

Elsie is speechless once more. Her mouth has dropped open a little with wonder and with want for her beautiful poet lover.

"Cha _rr_ les," she finally whispers back, her voice catching in her throat a little, "nothing in this world is as beautiful to me as the love I see in you, a chagair…" and she cranes her neck backwards a little to capture his lips in a gentle but sensuous kiss.

"Take me to dinner, Charles…Dance with me again."

 **CECECECECECE**

 **A/N:**

 **Pearls in the 1920s-** **I think I have played with the truth a bit on the gift of the necklace for Elsie. wiki/Pearl#Cultured_pearls**

 **BTW** **-isn't it so very convenient how fiction works and you can throw in these little serendipitous events like the date of Elsie's 30** **th** **anniversary of being a housekeeper being only one day after their wedding day! Corny, ain't I! I never actually thought of this scenario when I set out on this fiction journey – 1926 was only chosen so Charles and Elsie could go along to** _ **Lady Be Good!**_ **This '30 years' idea, quite honestly, only just occurred to me!**

 **Anyway, a 30 years anniversary required pearls- so I went a-looking – because I needed to work out if this was actually a feasible gift for Charles to buy on his income at that time. Historical realism matters to me, as you know- but I am also willing to bend the truth when required if it means I can up the romance level- because fiction allows you that freedom – best of both worlds really!**

 **Anyhoo!**

 **Long strings of imitation and costume style pearls became common in the 1920s flapper era (popularised by Coco Chanel- were jewellery was chosen for design and accessorising reasons, rather than so much as status symbols of old wealth- the wearable bank account, so to speak), so these necklaces were actually within the reach of many women owning them, especially the resin/ Bakelite type ones (but probably not the servant class). That said, the advent of cultured pearls also dropped the perceived value of pearls as jewels of rarity and high status. To this day, the rarer, naturally occurring pearls still can cost a fortune, but the patent for cultured and farmed pearls in Japan changed the market completely and lowered prices markedly. There is conflicting information out there about when these farmed pearls may have hit the market. Some sources I have read state it as if cultured, or farmed, pearls were readily available from the early 1920s, when prices started dropping dramatically. But, another source says that the earliest commercial production and sale of cultured pearls was not until after 1928. Not sure where the truth lies really- but I needed this gift to be affordable for Charles, so I have gone with the former version of events.**

 **Even so, as best as I could discover in a 1920s jewellery catalogue, a strand of long (I am assuming cultured pearls) would cost about ten pounds and up to around 50 pounds for a triple strand of long pearls. I have discovered that a butler at the turn of the 20** **th** **century would probably earn about 60 pounds a year and a housekeeper of a big house about 50 pounds a year (but we could easily think that the Grantham's were even more generous with salaries for their heads of staff). I have guesstimated that the Bohemia crystal in my little necklace design could actually have been worth a lot more than the cultured pearls! Bohemia crystal was also very popular for use in Art Deco fashion jewellery. In fact, some Czech glass makers had perfected the shaping and polishing of cheaper mother of pearl to make faux pearls. However, for this story, I am thinking of the pearls Charles has chosen as the Japanese style farmed ones. Overall, I have decided that given the higher quality of the necklace Charles gives Elsie, that it is worth around 60-80 pounds in that era. So even if Charles managed to save a third of his yearly income each year, this gift would still equate to 3-5 years of hard labour in order for him to be able to afford it. I think Charles would have done that, though, for if they are fairly well set up for retirement (well, I am conveniently assuming that they are- Mrs Patmore had 300 pounds from her sister to put into her investment property, so Charles and Elsie could have saved around 150-200 pounds each over all those years quite reasonably so as to go into partnership in a guest house a little larger than Beryl's). Anyway, Chelsie have no one to hand their savings onto when they finally shuffle off this mortal coil- so why shouldn't Charles splurge some money on one necklace for Elsie… and just…'live a little', really ?- That was my thinking anyway.**

 **Addtional note:** **At a guess, I have reckoned that Elsie's French Blue pleated skirt and blouse ensemble from their gallery outing would have cost her 4-5 pounds, if you are interested.**

 **CECECECECE**


	27. Chapter 27- Natural Weave

**The Acquisition of Memories- Chapter 27- Natural Weave**

 _His eyes close as he leans in to smell her fresh hair at the side of her head as his other arm encircles her at her waist and draws her back closer to him. "Elspeth" he draws her name out in a whisper near her ear as he feels a shiver run down her spine as it rests against his starched shirtfront. "My love…"_

 _Elsie is speechless once more. Her mouth has dropped open a little with wonder and want for her beautiful poet lover._

" _Charrles," she finally whispers back, her voice catching in her throat a little, "nothing in this world is as beautiful to me as the love I see in you, a chagair…" and she cranes her neck backwards a little to capture his lips in a gentle but sensuous kiss._

" _Take me to dinner, Charles…Dance with me again."_

 **CECECECECE**

Dinner is a delightful affair in the resplendent, ruby plush surroundings of the elegant dining room of the Ritz. Charles orders a small selection of hors d'oevres and an aperitif for them to start with while they peruse the rest of the menu. Elsie knows a little bit of French food terminology after her years working with Mrs Patmore's menus at the Abbey, but not nearly enough to interpret the whole of the Ritz dinner menu. Many of the dishes she has never even heard of, so she regularly asks Charles for some translations. He learned a substantial amount of the French language from some time he spent on the Continent when the 6th Earl had sent him to learn about the vintner's art as he prepared Charles to take on the role of Butler at Downton in the 1880s. And, over the years Elsie has even heard him break into the language at quite singular times, mainly when conversing in a somewhat light-hearted manner with Lady Mary – of all people!

They do not order a full range of options from the extensive menu as they both know it will be a rich dinner and far different from the basic and hearty fare they are regularly served in the servants' hall- on every day of the year except Easter and Christmas. After a soup of crème of watercress for Elsie and an oxtail consommé for Charles, they decide that they will skip the standard entrée course and have only the fish course and move straight to some small palate refreshers prior to their cold buffet items being served, then main courses and accompaniments. Charles has left all of the white wine selections to the sommelier and enjoys some light conversation with that man about various pros and cons of other vintages they know and might have matched otherwise. But Charles can actually find no fault with anything they have been served thus far.

During their fish and cold buffet courses, Charles broaches the subject of Elsie's suggestions for their transition away from working at the Abbey and into what is now, their almost mutually accepted and shared retirement plans.

"So tell me, Elsie, even if I can finally accept that Thomas may be equal to the task of supporting Lady Mary into the future as Butler, who do you see as your replacement? You have not yet had anyone, except maybe Anna, see the full details of how you work, and I cannot imagine that she and Mr Bates will stay on long at the Abbey now that they are finally free to start their family."

"Well, my only real choice would have to be Miss Baxter, Charles. She is quiet, diligent, smart and capable, and despite some rocky beginnings with Her Ladyship, a deep trust in her close counsel seems to have developed between them. I think I can rely on Baxter to work with Lady Mary in a similar fashion."

"But won't that mean that Her Ladyship will actually be without a lady's maid, Elsie? Will she really accept having to find another trustworthy candidate for that role- for surely Miss Baxter could not handle both the running of the Abbey and attending to Her Ladyship on a permanent basis? I mean… I know you often managed it during the War, but now His Lordship and Her Ladyship will be spending more and more time at Grantham House and on the Continent and away from the Downton, I do not see how it can work."

"Well that is true, but I do think, if anyone has handled change well at the Abbey over the years, it has always been Her Ladyship. She is a shrewd manager- she knows how to keep the people who love the family and those who hate it mostly separated from one another*.

"Ah yes, and as it happens, keeping the right mix of people artfully separated from one another is also the key attribute of the perfect hostess!" Charles quips.

"Indeed, Charles" She smiles happily at him. "But I do think that Her Ladyship is not afraid to make hard decisions for the benefit of the whole Estate in the long run, and above her own needs, too. You have surely seen that for yourself."

"Indeed," he replies as he remembers the stories of how Her Ladyship supported Lady Mary through the Pamuk debacle and the astute running of Downton as a hospice during the war.

"Well now, I do feel sure that she would rather see her daughter installed with a strong housekeeper in preference to her own worries about having to train up another lady's maid. They are much easier to recruit, especially from London, where she is bound to find a bright young thing willing to travel about with them and enjoy a bit of excitement on the continent."

"Hopefully not too much excitement, though! Or I would wager Her Ladyship will have to find a replacement every twelve months or so as the young lasses run off with various swarthy Gauls or Latino types!"

"Be that as it may, I am sure she will handle that as well as she has tried to manage her own errant daughters over the years! …But more to the point, I think she will respect my recommendation of Miss Baxter to succeed me, especially when I point out how well Miss Baxter and Thomas seem to understand and respect one another now. They appear to have become much-trusted friends, and that, as you know from our own experience, Charles, is very important when the two will have to work so closely together… and Thomas is even showing greater respect for her Mr Molesley now.

"More likely that is since that man seems to have finally found his own place at the school house and is out from under everyone's feet at the Abbey!" Charles joshes. Elsie smiles knowingly. "But Baxter and Molesley haven't come to a more permanent arrangement yet… have they? Or do you know yet another secret that I am not privy to Mrs Hughes? Hmm?"

"Not this time, Mr Carson. But you have to admit, it does seem imminent. I do not understand their connection myself, but who am I to say what makes others happy? I only know that are both deserving of some happiness, and if they can find even half of what we have together, each in the other, then they shall be very fortunate indeed, Charles. It is really just a matter of Mr Molesley summoning up the nerve."

Charles cannot help but smile at the reminder of his immense happiness with Elsie now. _Who could not wish that for more people in the world, indeed?_

"Well, that is all much more easily said than done- if I am speaking only from my own experience, Mrs Hughes! But I do wish them both very well together."

"Perhaps you could nudge him along a little when we return Charles. Mr Molesley would listen to you… as will Thomas, if you show him more regard and train him further. He has only ever wanted a father who might respect him more, our Thomas…"

"Hmm…well, I am not sure I will ever be ready to think of myself as some sort of father figure to Thomas, Elsie."

"You may not think it, Charles, but that may not be enough to stop others from appreciating you as such… or at least wishing that it might be so. Do not sell yourself so short. And with Thomas, if it helps you, just think of yourself more as a kind mentor… or a master with his apprentice-in-trade. There is nothing wrong with sharing a bond with any man in such a way- do you not think?"

"Well… I suppose that sounds more my thing with regards to Thomas- but I shall make it very clear to him whom he shall be answerable to if he should ever betray Lady Mary's trust."

"I would not really expect any less from you Charles,… not that you are regularly prone to using threats, however.…But, I do think I understand you a little better now on that front…Thomas will want to make you proud, though, Charles. He does respect you and what you do. He would want to build something as good in his own life as you have been able to. I do believe that." And she looks at him with a little concern in her eyes, but still much pride at who her Charles _is_ \- that he is finding some way to accept these quite radical suggestions for their replacements. Then quietly, she continues, "Just remember that kindness has always been your greatest strength, a chagair…he might respond better to that now than you realise …and …well…you _do_ actually have some similarities with Thomas, at least as far as I see it," she finishes tentatively.

"Hmmph." Charles grunts as he is still not entirely convinced of all of Elsie's view on these things, and he now feels more than mild distaste that he might actually be compared to _that_ man by his Elsie.

"Charles,…I think that Thomas likes the routine and structure that the running of Downton and that the performance of service offers _him._ For he need not have stayed in service all these years- not really- he could have struck out on his own a little more, he is a smart lad. He could have, really, once his hand had healed more after the war… and once he had cleared his debts after that black market nonsense, but he didn't, he stayed on… I…I think Downton provides him with a solid base for his life…I think it all might comfort him with its permanence in what must be a very uncertain world for him- as much as it has always done so for you…"

"Hmmm…" Charles is silent for quite a while as they eat and sip at their wines. Elsie lets him think on it all.

After a while, he responds.

"Well, I guess it is sounding more reasonable, Elsie, I can only trust that you _have_ seen these changes in Thomas, even if I have failed to so far." He sighs audibly. "I guess we do all have our different burdens to carry in life, sadly. And I suppose I have managed to ignore _who_ he is thus far, and tried not to let it interfere with our work,… and whilst I am not sure I will ever be truly comfortable with it, Elsie, I shall try to be more open to seeing the better of him from now on. I believe I can do that."

Elsie could not feel prouder of her man in this moment. He really has always taken change in his stride in the end- for what is life in service if not the ability to consistently adjust to and deal with the different demands of life that are constantly thrown at them from all quarters? She reaches across to affectionately brush the back of his hand with her fingertips.

"Charles, you have ever been a fair man, even with Thomas at his worst. I do think it shall go well- but, equally, I expect Mr Barrow will take some time adjusting to it all…He is not used to receiving the generosity of many people in his life."

"Well, I shan't be changing my manner with the man that radically, to be sure, Elsie! I am hardly the _chummy_ type!"

"And that is for the best Charles, for he would probably think you had gone mad or that he is hallucinating! …He is a reserved man too, Charles, as a good Butler should be. Just be your usual self, and offer him what knowledge you have to give- it will be enough."

Charles cannot help but smile at his beautiful, wife- subtly nudging him towards her best designs. He trusts her with his livelihood and his life it seems. _What a wonderfully safe place this is to be,_ he thinks with a loving smile twitching at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"Well, I can only hope that any faith we are putting in him will not turn ill for any of us. And of course, I do respect any decision you have come to with regards to your own replacement, Elsie. It does all appear to be sound advice. But, pray tell me, where exactly do you hide this veritable font of wisdom within your tiny frame, Mrs Carson?"

She scoffs lightly at him.

"I am not entirely certain, Mr Carson, and you _do_ flatter me. But, at least now it seems that you _shall have_ all of your retirement in which to discover my many secrets!"

"And I would not have it any other way, my love," and he smiles with bright love in his eyes for her once more. Then he turns serious again "… But what of _us_ Elsie…What of Brounker Road? Does it bother you what I said about not knowing if I want to run it as a guest house anymore? I hate that I may have cast a pall on our little dream there."

"Well, yes and no, I guess. It is _only_ a building, after all, Charles, and although I am proud of the changes we have made to the property so far… I am not yet so attached to it definitely becoming our home…we will, after all, be installed in rooms at the Abbey to begin with now that we are married. Let's just settle in with that for the moment as we prepare Baxter and Barrow over the next several months. I think we need to sit down when we return and properly look at all the figures on it.

"Yes, that is probably a good idea, Elsie."

"But,…when you think on it Charles, we have already run through a couple of different scenarios with regards to it anyway. I mean, to start with, before we were going to retire, we were going to install someone to run it for us, so there was an expense to cover there but three rooms to let out. Then, before we were going to marry, we both would have eventually moved in and taken up two of the rooms for ourselves in order to run it in retirement, only allowing two to let out, and then our third option, now that we are married, is to move in and have three room to collect on again- so, yes, that would have been more lucrative… but… consider this, Charles- what if we keep it to rent out to a young growing family perhaps?... Or run it with one person employed to oversee it, Charles, as we initially thought…"

"But we cannot stay forever in rooms at the Abbey after we retire with those last options, Elsie! Where do you propose that we do live?"

"Oh don't tell me you are losing your memory already, old man!" Elsie jokes with him. Charles looks a little miffed and huffs and grumbles as he pulls down sharply on his waistcoat, trying to fix his pride back into place once more.

"Oh, Charles love, I am only joking… "and she reaches across the table once more to stroke soothingly at the back of his hand. "But surely you must remember what Lord and Lady Grantham offered us when we first announced we were getting married… and I know it made sense then to turn down an estate cottage when it looked like we would just move into Brounker Road together, but if you really do not want the bother of more tireless work running a guest house and not really having space and time to ourselves, could we not prevail upon that offer again now? Do you not think that Lady Mary would gladly repeat the offer- and especially for you?"

"But wouldn't that be wrong, Elsie? It is almost like reneging on a deal. How can we go back and ask for that again- it seems…well… _indelicate_ , to say the very least."

"Charles, I do not think your Blessed Lady Mary is quite such a delicate creature, really. Do you?"

Oddly, to Charles' ears, Elsie says this calmly and with no hint of sarcasm. In fact, it seems to be, somehow, a compliment to Lady Mary. Charles' mouth quirks into a half smile at his Elsie's more ready acceptance of his special girl.

"You really have been thinking all of this through, haven't you, my little plotter!"

"As I said, Mr Carson, it is not 'plotting' as such, just carefully thinking through our possible options. Success always comes down to careful planning from the outset, as you well know, Mr Carson, and, I do believe we need to keep thinking on it all for a while longer. But…what are your thoughts so far?"

He answers this with his own question. "But Elsie, do you worry we might be almost _too_ idle if we both retire at once like this- without the guest house to run ourselves?"

"Well, I had rather thought that was part of the purpose of retirement, Mr Carson! We have not had many an idle day between us across our two lifetimes, maybe it is time we started to. Besides which, could we really _call_ it a retirement if we are indeed still working and running our own guesthouse every day?"

"But,… I _haven't_ really thought about it, Elsie…not before this…I only knew what I felt I did _not_ want anymore. And beyond that, all I know is that I want to spend my time by your side still. I want to make you happy… but I haven't even really thought what that may involve if we are not working! …It does seem I may have waltzed into marriage a little unprepared for you, Mrs Carson!" and he looks up a little nervously towards her.

"Och, I wouldn't exactly say that, Mr Carson," Elsie raises her sparkling and suddenly desire filled eyes to meet his. "I think you have managed _quite_ admirably with making me happy thus far." Elsie replies blithely and with a wicked glint as her memories cause her to suck lightly at the corner of her bottom lip as she fingers the pearls of her necklace seductively.

Eyes widening, Charles draws in a sharp breath.

"Behave…" he replies, drawing the word out long in a low warning rumble, "…my _dear_ Mrs Carson, for we _are_ still at the table." But he cannot help but lick lightly at his lower lip and return a smug grin at this rapid change in the direction of their conversation. Elsie's look of twinkling happiness is returned right back to her from his own intense and darkened eyes. Then Charles decides to take his chance, even though the band in the next room has just struck up a rather fast jazz foxtrot tune. "Well, Mrs Carson, I have at least thought of one thing we could spend some more time doing in retirement… Would you care to have this dance with me?"

Furrowing her brow, pretending to look put out, Elsie replies, "That may well have been my idea too, as I recall, Mr Carson! However, I would be delighted." And Elsie smiles brightly at her gentleman as he leads her out to the dance floor. "You do know that I have not really danced the foxtrot before, Mr Carson… and I did not know that you could either."

"Just trust me on this, Mrs Carson, I will at least lead you in this one thing, just as you have proven adept at leading me into a different kind of retirement than I could possibly have imagined."

His free hand flutters near his thigh with delighted anticipation just before he reaches the edge of the dance floor and grasps his lovely wife and holds her closer to his body than is customary for any waltz they have thus far shared. Charles starts lightly stepping Elsie counter-clockwise around the floor with large flowing strides.

Elsie feels herself being fairly swept away by Charles as he keeps up with the slow swoop then fast glide of the music. All of his skills at traversing tight crowds that she had first seen and marvelled at on the theatre promenade last night seem to be coming into play on the quite busy dance floor tonight. Somehow, Charles manages to find ample space for them in each rotation and their movements are unhindered by having to think of the proximity of other dancers. Elsie feels as if the dance floor contains them alone, such is Charles agile and silent fluidity within the movement of the people around them.

At times throughout his heel to toe rising and falling glide, Charles lightly lifts Elsie off the ground as her feet struggle to keep apace with where he leads them to next through the dip and step and spin of the dance. But as she settles in closer to him, Elsie finds that she can actually read his subtle body movements, mostly from where their hips meet, and then she starts sensing, almost pre-empting, what direction he will move them in before he even starts to. Soon she is finding herself wishing for the certain little steps and flourishes he embellishes into his movements, which sway her so seductively and which bring him ever closer to her body.

He has lowered and drawn back his leading arm and her hand actually has to reach almost past the depth of his torso in order to keep hold of it, and it all just serves to bring her soft curves even closer to the harsh brush of his tail coat and starch fronted shirt, teasing all of her nerve endings. She can feel the press of his body as it moves the silk of her dress and undergarments against her most sensitive skin- on her hips, her belly, her breasts… Even in the sway of the skirt of her dress caught floatingly between her legs as he moves his leading leg past her side and then his following leg steps closely between her own through each rotation they make on the dance floor- this especially makes her whole body thrill with the exhilarating power of him… of them together- like _this_. Her heart is racing with giddy excitement. It is all so incredibly intimate and sensual for such a public place.

Elsie feels her chest beginning to blush, and thinks that she should probably try to place a little distance between their bodies in order to control her quite visceral reactions to his heat and movements and muscular bulk- to the natural weave of their bodies so close together as they cycle through the patterned steps of their dance… but Elsie's head is in a haze of his close and clean masculine scent and if she takes her eyes off his for even a second, she finds she cannot keep up with the whirl of shimmering lights and colours that adorn the intricate decorations of the room. She feels slightly intoxicated by it all and her only recourse is to actually hold even tighter to him lest her desire slackened knees should fail her completely and Charles has to carry her bodily from the floor. She has _never_ been danced like this before and she just does not want _any_ of it to end.

CECECECECE

But end, it inevitably does, and thankfully for the ongoing strength of Elsie's knees, the band starts playing a slightly slower tune this time. A more familiar waltz rhythm ensues, yet even this is handled differently than she expected, for the classical framing of their bodies for a Viennese Waltz is completely missing and Charles maintains his closer than normal hold on Elsie. Her body stays moulded to his own but she finds that she does not care to have it any other way.

As they continue to turn about the floor she shakes herself a little from the haze of the earlier dance and manages to breathlessly ask him, "Where on earth did you learn to dance like that, Charles Carson?"

He releases a short laugh then. "So you approve of my skills on this front, Mrs Carson?"

"Oh I think you know that I do, Mr Carson," She replies dreamily, "so please tell me."

"Well, I am not sure even _I_ approve of how it all happened, it was quite unseemly behaviour on the part of a Butler…and I am _very_ surprised you know nothing of it, truth be told- given you know most of what happens in the House. But, I suppose that my request for it to remain a secret, lest the younger staff use it to undermine whatever authority I may have with them, was actually respected by the young ladies of the house." Elsie is looking at him with quite a note of fascination now. "Still, I shall not complain of the practice I managed to get now that I have been able to utilise it so effectively with a most worthy partner." And he looks down into her eyes with his own dark and loving and very proud ones.

"Do you mean to tell me, Charles Carson, that you have been slouching off work and gallivanting around a dance floor with _several_ young ladies of the house whilst I have been slaving away!" Elsie sounds quite incredulous.

With a little, embarrassed smile he replies, "Well…would you believe me if I told you that it was the irrepressible Lady Rose who first insisted I try leading her in a foxtrot after we got that infernal gramophone at the house?"

"Grmph… Well, that does not seem outside of the realms of possibility- at least for her. Did his Lordship know about all this?"

"Well…'Charles continues sheepishly, "umm…he was actually there too, and the ladies were dragging him into the whole affair because they wanted to practice and they weren't getting very far with any of them taking on the men's parts, so I think His Lordship called upon me to join him in the end so that he might not feel quite so foolish about it all. So, you could say that I was acting under orders to do so, Elsie. So surely I cannot bear _all_ of the responsibility for my actions!"

She shakes her head at him in amusement. "Well I am none too sure about that, Carson, it rather sounds to me like yet another man shirking his personal responsibilities in the face of a pretty lady!"

Charles smiles and huffs good-naturedly at this.

"But I guess it does explain your overly vocal dislike of this new jazz music, Charles. It seems it may have been the design of a much larger subterfuge on your part!"

"Maybe so…maybe so!"

"Hmm…That said, I cannot complain about it at all now, really, for I find that I do like how much you can still surprise me, even after all these years, Charles Carson… and I do so love to dance with you." And she leans her head in closer to his chest as the music is slowing to a halt.

"Me too, Elsie Love…hmm… Now, shall we go see about those main courses now? Maybe we can take another turn about the floor after that."

"That sounds lovely,… plus we both know the trouble to be had in kitchens if the serving of courses is delayed. Let us hope that young Alfred is not within earshot of Mrs Patmore's evil London twin, lest we have messed up their timing below stairs!'

"Heaven help him if that were the case!" Charles replies with a small laugh as he leads Elsie back to their table on his arm. "Perhaps we should put in a request with the Maitre d', to see if Alfred might be free to say a quick hello before we leave- I wonder which section he is currently working in? Hmm…Still,…not for tonight, though… for I rather want _you_ all to myself tonight, Mrs Carson," he says darkly.

Elsie catches his desire filled eyes on her and she smiles knowingly back at him.

"Oh, you shall have no complaints about that from me I think you will find, my dear Mr Carson," and she dreamily strokes his forearm with her fine fingertips in a long slow pattern through the sleeve of his tail coat.

CECECECECE

They enjoy their main roast meats course with an array of salad, potato and vegetable items to share. It is a new experience for Charles and Elsie to be able to linger over a whole meal without the threat of service bells or the dinner gong requiring their leave after less than half an hour. It is also pleasing to not have to keep half an ear to the opposite end of a long table to ensure that the conversations of various footmen, hall boys or housemaids stay right and proper and that gossip about the house is kerbed.

Once again, Charles is impressed with the red wine selections the sommelier has made and speaks to the man about taking a copy of some of his cellar notes based on this season's menu back with him to Downton, for he is sure that there are vintages His Lordship will be interested in for his own collection. Charles thinks he might invest in the reds and whites they have had tonight as future anniversary wines for Elsie and himself. Although, he keeps this little plan to himself. Given Elsie's enjoyment of the surprises he has been able to arrange for her thus far, he thinks it prudent, and highly enjoyable to both of them, for him to continue their married life in this manner.

Since their charming turn on the dance floor, Charles and Elsie's conversation has relaxed more and they discuss their future retirement -bandying about various ideas of how their time may be occupied if they have all of their days to themselves. It is agreed that neither of them are prepared to stagnate within the four walls of a small estate cottage and they speak of interests and dreams they have not had any time to pursue during their years and long hours in service.

But, as they are both pragmatic people, they initially run through the ways that they might set up the property to run as a guesthouse or rental property until it requires minimal input from them. After this has run its course for the moment, they turn to refining their wants and needs in a little cottage and garden on the Estate grounds. Elsie expresses a wish that their cottage might, hopefully, be situated not far from the lake she loves so much beyond the folly. In her fondest dreams she wishes that the kitchen and dining area may have a western facing window that allows them to watch the sun go down at the end of each day as they dine. Charles listens to her other decorating wishes in this idealised cottage and is happy to accede to all of her designs in terms of colours and fittings and soft furnishings, for he feels it is truly her domain, and that her life's work has given her a better eye for the details of the comforts a home needs. Certainly, his intimate knowledge of the four grey-green walls of his utilitarian butler's pantry and the attic room he has always lived in cannot possibly offer much to the conversation. He only hopes that any cottages they may be offered by Lady Mary will afford at least some of his dear wife's wishes. And he tells her as much.

"Och, Charles- this is all cloud talk, to be sure. I do not honestly expect that all of my wishes will be fulfilled to the letter, if at all, really. I will be glad of whatever the estate offers us, for it will surely outstrip our current living quarters in the attics. So long our little cottage has you in it, I will be at home wherever they may send us, my love."

Charles smiles with happy and contented pride as he acknowledges the mutual truth of this sense of belonging once more.

"And then how do you see our garden, Elsie. I thought maybe I would try my hand at growing some roses out the front."

"And maybe a small plot for the kitchen, with herbs nearer to the back door…and… I think some white carnations would be… _far-r-r_ more than nice," she finishes with her rolling burr, her eyes darkening cheekily once more as her gaze drops to his fresh boutonniere.

Charles releases a low whistling breath from between his teeth as his eyes drop unbidden to his wife's lightly blushed neckline.

"And all I request," he manages to stumble out sotto voce, "Mrs Carson, is an oversized roll top bath and a rather large bed to share with you."

Elsie face fully reddens at this forward suggestion of his at the dinner table now, and Charles fulfils an urgent need to moisten his suddenly chapped lips. But, in unspoken agreement, they both choose to change the tack of their musings lest they overstep the bounds of etiquette expected of them in the restaurant.

Charles sighs out a long and relieving sigh.

"So, what other grand plans do you have to keep this old man out of your hair a little on our long days together, Elsie? For even you and I are used to a little time and space to ourselves in the big house…and I know I am not an easy man to be with, Elsie… with all of my crabby ways, do you not think we will end up getting under each other's skin too much?

Elsie's eyes flick sharply into his, thinking he is pushing at some seductive boundary with her again, but she quickly sees that he is actually genuinely concerned about this factor in their new life together, so she does not push the innuendo further.

"Oh Charles, I have no doubt that we will get on each other's nerves at times. Hasn't that always been the case- and with both of us?" she asks rhetorically. "I mean, you could be bearing the brunt of absolutely all of my focused machinations in other people's lives, and I don't envy you that particular charge!"

"Ha! So you _do_ admit to being a cunning little plotter!"

"Hmm..yes, well…we all have some faults it seems!" she replies with a self-deprecating laugh. "But seriously Charles… I have thought that you could, well we both could, stand to have a lot more to do with life in the village. We have always been too busy working to do very much, but I saw how well you were respected and handled the memorial committee- do you think you might continue with more of those sorts of developments?"

"Hmm…possibly…but I don't know…I was respected…perhaps…but I do not think it is really in my nature to compromise and work with the political machinations of others quite so well. You know it was a trying time for me in many ways, Elsie, for I did not like to see how His Lordship was sidelined… and he really was better suited to handling the sensitivity of the township's and Mrs Patmore's needs than I obviously was. Plus, I knew there was an element of hidden manoeuvring going on about me that I was just not wise enough to pick up on quickly… Perhaps you are better suited to village council life, Elsie- you read people so much better than I do… I just carry a set of expectations that I always belatedly discover no one else around me really shares. It was not much fun for me, and that was aside from the sad nature of it being about the war memorial."

"That is a pity to hear, Charles, but I am still proud of what you achieved… and I am sure I might not have handled Mrs Wigan with as much... _tact…_ as you managed! That woman rankles me like no other! Perhaps we are both better suited to… quieter pursuits, hmm?…What about your cricket, Charles?"

"Well, I am far too old to be playing regularly with the village Elsie… I don't think my body could keep up with it even if they wanted me on a team… I guess I could umpire more often."

"That you could." And then Elsie laughs out loud.

"What is it?" Charles asks, perplexed.

"Och, I was just imagining how you might look in one of those white umpires coats. I am used to seeing you all trussed up in black! I wondered, briefly if you may end up looking like the local butcher!"

"OH! The cheek, Mrs Carson! Am I always to be the unwitting butt of all your jokes?! I am not some ruddy-faced and uncouth Yorkshireman who calls every lady "love" when they walk through my doorway!"

"And nor would you have to in the middle of a cricket field, Charles!" she chuckles,"So there is no need to get your dander up about it- besides I _do_ know you are not like that at all…but…you know..." she continues a little shyly, "I _have_ always thought you look quite dashing in your cricketing whites, my man," and Elsie cannot keep her eyes from darkening lustfully as she imagines him that way.

"I have no idea why you were chastising me for not behaving at table tonight, Mrs Carson, for you are being quite the little devil with me tonight!" and he cannot help but chuckle out loud. _His Elsie._

She grins guiltily at him.

"Have you considered coaching then, Charles? I think you would do well with a young boys team. Maybe even set a small side up with the children from the school-house. Mr Molesley would help with that too wouldn't he? And I know how much you love to be around the little ones."

"Well… now that I _could_ see myself doing…Cricket is a wonderful game to teach young lads- a true gentleman's sport."

"What is it about cricket, Charles? For even after all these years, I cannot claim to understand the infernal game's interest to everyone about the village. It makes little sense to me!"

"But I thought you always enjoyed the House and Village match each year, Elsie"

"Well, as you know, I have spent most years running about organising and ensuring the House has provided adequate refreshments and food for all and sundry. I have had little time to pick up what is actually happening out on the field, beyond a lot of standing around getting sunburnt and some irregular flurries of activity running back and forth between some sticks…and then…if any time is afforded me… there has of course been that rather distracting vision of a certain distinguished butler, all in white with his green mucked knees and his pomade failing miserably at holding back a certain rakish forelock that has filled my thoughts… so how can I really be expected to keep track of all of the rules of the game?"

"Philistine!" Charles grumbles out, but he fairly ripples with pride at the fact that he has managed, however unwittingly, to fluster the normally unflappable Mrs Hughes each summer for all of these years. He puffs his chest out noticeably and states with authority, "I will have you know that cricket is a game of great structure and intricate strategy. It requires immense patience and concentration and a readiness for all sorts of occurrences happening within the blink of an eye. I shall have to educate you much further on it, it seems, Mrs Carson."

"Well, it actually sounds very much like a match for your various roles and talents in service across all of these years, Charles. Perhaps you _should_ teach it to the young 'uns…But…why do you love it so?"

"Hmm...well coaching a school team is definitely all worth looking into…. But, why I love it?…Well, I guess I can liken it to chess a bit, a thinking man's game, but with people instead of pieces….and… I do think that the best sports teach us to be better people, Elsie. It teaches respect for your opponents, and for the rules of the game, and for the umpires final decisions- for there can be no game without these things- just a big mess that would fall into a melee without this agreed upon structure… It is about playing fair…being mindful of the truth, and I worry that some young people do not learn this day to day anymore, Elsie…and...it's because a certain degree grace is always required when you accept and celebrate a win, or when you are faced with defeat."

"As it is with life, my dear," Elsie replies quietly, with a renewed respect for the things that her Charles has found so important in his life. "You would do admirably coaching children in it Charles. I should very much like to see you try it."

Charles smiles that heart filled smile of his that turns one corner of his mouth up with the boyish pride and innocence that Elsie so loves to see.

"Thank you, my Love, I like the idea of it…quite a bit…But what of you? Surely you do not wish to be relegated to cutting up orange wedges for the young lads' refreshments at a practice session…even if _I_ am there in my cricket whites?" he asks with a cheeky glint back in his eyes.

"Ha! Well, no… and I _rather_ think you could train the young lads in at least _that_ little piece of self-sufficiency…But,… I guess I might be more involved in the Lady's Auxilliary- I could be useful there- organising fundraising events and the like. I was impressed by what they achieved during the war, but had no time to devote to it because of work."

"That makes sense. No one can organise a seamless event quite like you, Elsie Love…and it suits your drive to always be helping those less fortunate…or in trouble. I would imagine your greatest challenge on that front would be working around the strident ideas of Mrs Crawley!...and wouldn't Mrs Wigan also be underfoot?"

"Oh, Mrs Crawley is a good egg- it is all in the art of management, remember Charles- Mrs Crawley just needs to _think_ everything was of her complete design and elegant execution from the outset!…But I do respect her, and she seems to like me well enough…and I think I can handle the odious Mrs Wigan if she has no particular political 'bit between her teeth'- so to speak. I just have to keep the person who does _not_ like me busy and away from the one who probably does like me! I shall take a leaf out of Her Ladyship's book there, I believe!"

"Well,I will never understand what is _not_ to like about you, Elsie Love. But, it does seem as if you have it all thought out. They will be lucky to have you on board."

"Flatterer," replies a very pleased Elsie.

CECECECECE

They finish the last of their meal and sip silently at their wine for a while, mulling over these new ideas for their future. It is lovely to have this freedom of their own time spread out before them to map and weave a new reality onto.

"Charles," Elsie starts again tentatively, "…I do not know if you will like my other idea, but it is something I should very much like you to consider…and I would like very much to be involved in it with you."

"Hmm…what is that Love?"

"…Would…would you sing in the church choir with me?" She looks very worried that she may have finally pushed him further than he is willing to bend under the face of public scrutiny, and in an area that she knows has long caused him discomfort.

Charles' eyebrows creep perilously high up on his forehead but he remains silent.

"Charles, I have always wanted to do it but haven't had the time…and I don't claim to have much of a voice… but maybe I can hide it well enough within a larger group of people…and… well…as for you, they _could_ really do with a good strong baritone in the choir after all these years… you have to agree it has been a less than ordinary ensemble for far too long."

Charles cannot help but huff out a small derisive laugh. "Well, _that_ much is true!"

"Indeed. Well, Reverend Travis barely even _speaks_ with any interest, let alone has he any musical skills. In fact, they seem to be _entirely_ lacking,… and I am just _so_ tired of groaning through _every_ Sunday service with them!… Please don't be annoyed, Charles,…but…they don't have a proper choir master… and I thought that maybe my song and dance man could… perhaps… teach them a thing or three?"

She looks to Charles nervously, sure that she has pushed the bounds of his ability to change several steps too far this time around.

"Would it really make you happy to have me there, Elsie?" He asks quietly.

"It would Charles. I do love to hear your voice. It is very beautiful…" and she looks down a little shyly and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"And I like yours to Elspeth… I have heard you sing too, it is very pretty…Perhaps we should."

Elsie's eyes shoot up to his in shock. She really had expected that he would refuse this idea outright. Her face breaks into a broad sunny smile as she shakes her head in disbelief.

And, how can Charles possibly refuse the chance to see that beautiful smile in church every Sunday? He smiles right back at her.

"You genuinely surprise me, Charles…would you really do this with me?"

"Yes, Elsie…I believe I will."

"Tell me why…Why are you not afraid to be seen as a singing man now?"

"Well, it _is_ a little bit different to being on the halls, Elsie, you have to see that… and even I told you last night that there is not so much to be ashamed of in trying to make people happy… I mean, I know the church choir in its current state is hardly a dignified affair- Dear me! I mean, _really!_ -It is meant to be for singing our praises and thanks to God- and I cannot think St Michaels Church choir has been doing _anyone_ in Downton village any great favours with the Lord over these past years!"

"I had no idea you thought so strongly about it Charles!... But try not to be _too_ cutting" she laughs, "…especially if we do intend to work with these people and are not to tread on the Reverend's toes too much!"

"Oh, he would probably be happy to hand on something he seems to feel little for, Elsie. Maybe he can devote a bit more time to writing more entertaining sermons!...Hmm….Just think… in time we could recommend filling the service with even _more_ music…maybe then we could get him to trim his sermons right down!"

"Oooh! Now you are being a little _too_ wicked, Charles Carson!" But she chuckles heartily along with him.

"But, Elsie… I really do like it when we work towards a common purpose for others,…and…I would miss that terribly when we leave the Abbey. And what of this art of performance I have enjoyed in elegant service? I would miss that too, I am sure. It just wouldn't be quite the same if it was only always about us and the cottage and our garden…don't you think?...I would very much miss working together with you on something, Elsie...Plus,… if it makes you smile every week like I have just seen you smile…then I will do whatever it takes to keep you this happy, my love."

"Och, Charles…you really are a very dear man." She says quietly, her eyes filling with liquid love for him.

"Hmm…" he hums contentedly, "Mrs Patmore did say you could always wrap me around your little finger, Elsie."

"How did _you_ know that, Charles Carson?" she shoots back at him in surprise.

"Oh, come now, Mrs Hughes, you are not the only one that overhears the various machinations going on in the servants' hall, I can assure you!"

Having been so obviously caught out, Elsie remains silent.

"But one thing I do know, my Love, is that _I would not_ have it any other way," and he smiles joyously at her as he reaches out for her hand across the table. "Now then, Mrs Hughes, _since_ it seems that I am going to be a singing man once more, I would ask that you release your charge, Mrs Elspeth Mae Carson for a few moments so that I may continue honing my dancing skills with her to go along with it. What say you?"

"Well now, I believe I can spare her for the moment, Mr Carson, and how could I possibly refuse _that_ offer anyway?" she laughs happily.

And Charles proudly leads her once more to the dance floor as their empty plates are being cleared away.

CECECECECE

Now that the evening is getting late, the dances played by the in-house jazz orchestra have returned to some older favourites. Charles and Elsie are familiar with the Castle Walk from before the war and this jaunty but simple number matches their light-hearted and happy mood from their lovely evening together. This segues easily into a slightly more up-tempo waltz and they continue straight into another wonderful foxtrot.

They have even more space on the dance floor now that some couples have left for the evening, and Charles steps confidently with his large gait to swing them fluidly around the dance space. Elsie is now accustomed to the steps and sequences of the foxtrot and they are in delightful and close accord throughout. The fact that they have flirted, been risqué and that the night is drawing them ever closer to some more private time together in their suite all proves incredibly enticing. Elsie and Charles revel in the closeness of their bodies, that seem to mould and weave so naturally together on the dance floor.

The effects of more wine and the warmth of the evening are making Elsie feel even giddier and sensually intoxicated than before. Once more, she finds that she must focus all of her attentions on Charles' face and eyes to maintain any sort of equilibrium. She wonders how on earth he is even managing to direct their dance so steadily.

For his part, Charles has moved into that space of comfort that comes with the surety of knowing your performance will always live up to the standards of those you wish to serve. As in serving a dinner at the big house, he trusts that Elsie can play her part in it all too, and he trusts that he knows his part well. And so it is that Charles surrenders purely to the wonderful feel of the music seeping through the air and into his skin, and to the delightful feeling of holding his supple and giving wife securely in his arms.

They are thankful when the swirling speed of the foxtrot gives way to a slower tune. It is decidedly foreign and follows a seductive beat. Neither of them has ever danced a tango with _anyone_ before. But once more, through his habit of careful observation, Charles is aware of the subtle and close steps and progressions of the dance, even though he had begged off having to dance this one with Lady Rose in that practice session with the gramophone, for he did not feel it an appropriate dance for him to share with the young ladies _at all_.

Checking for Elsie's approval to continue in this dance, he sees the trusting and longing nod in her eyes and they proceed into this new space together. It is as close as they have ever danced with one another. Charles holds their leading arms very close to his chest this time and he does not take his lust darkened eyes from hers for a single moment. The steps are not as large as for a foxtrot- they are contained and more intricate, but it keeps them close to one another's stringing muscular need within the tightness of their embrace and the easy flow of their relaxed gait.

It is beautiful to dance with her and Charles is beyond proud in this moment. Content. Relaxed. But equally, thrilled and sparking with young energy for her. Her soft and strong body reads him perfectly, accepts him fully and answers his call to be with him completely. She makes him unafraid to show his better self- bright and loving, flexible and agile, sensual and full-hearted…and ever steady in her loving arms.

Elsie wonders if Charles shares her current dilemma of barely being able to draw a clear breath- but her mind is not really fit to fathom even this when she is so very close to him. Elsie reads his movements once more through the proximity of their hips and she feels her breasts and tightened nipples brushing against his stiffened shirt front through the layers of her silky clothing. The contrast is exquisite and it strings her nerves taut upon the loom of her desire for him. Her thighs rest and brush regularly past and around his own- large and muscular. Lean. They step forward and back together. In between the subtle staccato steps to their new formations together, his movements are fluid and sinuous and it is incredibly erotic to her- like they are dancing their lovemaking fully clothed in front of the world. She knows that she should feel shocked, or worried about such sensations. But the entire world of people are only strangers to them in this room, and in this moment, there really is only Charles and her. That is all she really wants, and it is certainly all she needs. Them. That is all.

CECECECECE

As the end of the music settles them back into the reality of the room around them, they find that they are quite breathless and parched. In unspoken agreement they return quietly to their table, completely unaware that many other couples on the dance floor have followed their progression around the floor all this time, and now their eyes follow them as they leave the room- all recognising something in the couple- something stable but living...something deeply rooted but free- wild even- but freely tamed and shared -an understanding- a deep connection- beyond words or full explanation- but it is surely something they all wish to have and share with another person one day themselves.

When they returned to the table and are seated Charles and Elsie quench their thirst with some chilled water. They smile with pride and longing, and sometimes with a little shyness at each other as they silently acknowledge what they both just felt out on the dance floor for the other- and in front of everyone!

Finally, Charles asks in a husky, gravelled voice, "Do you fancy anything for dessert, Mrs Carson?"

Purposely ignoring the tightened heat that is pooling and swirling low in her belly, Elsie finally draws up her power of speech to reply in a smoky-toned burr.

"What do they have Mr Carson, you will need to translate the menu again for me, but I am content with what I have had already- I can live without it- unless there was something particular you might like to recommend."

Recognising his own deep contentment with Elsie alone in the unintended turn of phrase in her reply, he answers lucidly, but with a somewhat absent-minded tone, "Hmm… I am not sure. Perhaps I have had enough of sweet desserts for myself today, what with the high tea and our icecream in the afternoon. What if we just arrange for a cheese plate to be sent up to our room for later while we have our coffee."

"That sounds fine to me."

But Charles's eyes have darkened once more as he looks up from his perusal of the menu and sees Elsie taking another sip from the remains of her glass of wine.

"Besides which,… I…I am afraid they don't actually serve what I was really hankering for, Els-sie."he draws out her name in a thinly veiled, desire filled hiss.

"And what is that, Mr Carson?" she asks quietly, still concentrating on maintaining some sort of control over her body's reactions to her man.

"Forfaitaire de gelée fondante."

She arches an eyebrow at him, expecting a translation, but none is forthcoming. Charles just releases a very low and whisper quiet humming groan as he looks longingly at his wife's lips, where she has just licked the last drops of her red wine from them.

Absently, almost breathlessly, his eyes not leaving her full and lush lips, he stumbles out "How… about we just skip coffee and … maybe… call down for the cheese later, Mrs Carson?"

Knowing that the meal will be charged automatically to their room account, Charles does not actually wait for a response. Instead he rises quickly and sees to Elsie's chair as he more briskly states, "Come to think of it, Mrs Carson, I am absolutely certain that I can live without _ever_ having dessert in the Ritz Restaurant." He offers her his arm. "Shall we?" and then low and close to her ear, "mon forfaitaire de gelée fondante."

Recognition sparkles bright in Elsie's eyes and red heat prickles across her décolletage.

" _Well_ … It appears that a lass need not even leave London in order to run away with _some_ sort of swarthy Gaul, Mr Carson!" Elsie breathes out lustfully to Charles, as she gleefully allows herself to be escorted, at a rather rapid pace, from the restaurant and up to their suite, having neglected to retrieve their hats and coats from the cloak room.

 **CECECECECE**

 **Thanks for reading again. Reviews are very much looked forward to, so please do write something if you can spare the time. Thanks :)**

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 **Now, don't read on if it breaks the toy too much for you – Here are all my research and analysis notes again!**

 **Historical/Author Notes:**

 **Dinner menu :** **Here is an old Escoffier menu for the month of May that I have based the choices Charles and Elsie make for dinner on. This is from Escoffier's 1912 book** _ **Les Livres des Menus**_ **\- and it will have to do for the Ritz kitchens under Arsene Avignon in 1926. Avignon did train under Escoffier, so I would assume some of these classical standards remained on the Ritz menu even through to 1926. Heck – I still had to learn them at trade school in the early 1990s! . . **

**CECECECECE**

 ***This line is doctored from an early second incarnation episode of Scottish Crime Drama** _ **Taggart.**_ **Jackie Reid says it at DI Michael Jardine's burial-** _ **"Michael always said to me that the art of good management is being able to keep the people who hate you and the people who like you away from one another."**_ **– or at least words to that effect. The line has always stayed with me- even if the reality of doing so in a workplace is nigh on impossible! And of course, Charles seeing Her Ladyship (Cora) as the 'perfect hostess' is the influence of VW and** _ **Mrs Dalloway**_ **shining through once more!. Actually, Cora's character is starting to grow on me a little bit- I think still waters run deep with that one- but she appears too bland and coquettish much of the time, and it kind of just gives me the irrates!**

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 **Jazz Age Dancing:**

 **+The title of this chapter is based on the 'Natural Weave' -the main gliding dance sequence of steps that is readily identifiable as the Foxtrot.**

 *****Spoiler Alert!**

 **Well now! You should definitely stop reading if you do not wish to ruin that initial joy and wonder that can be had by just sitting and watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers musicals- because... I am going into full analysis mode after this!- and it might just ruin it for some of you- sorry- I break toys apart to understand and enjoy them over and over again at different levels- because that initial rush of experiencing something for the first time with no prior knowledge can never really fully be recaptured- more is the pity. So, instead, I find I have to bring more to an artwork each time myself to make it special in a different way again. SO- go and watch Fred and Ginger films  NOW… and then come back!**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Now,** **as it is, I do not claim to be an expert on dance- in fact – I generally hate to be asked to dance in any way, shape or form as I feel far too uncoordinated, totally lacking in natural musical rhythm, and completely self-conscious about such things… Maybe one day though- I might try my hand at ballroom- with the right person- or non-performance tapping- purely because it is such a happy form of dance that never fails to make me smile. Anyway, for the time being, I absolutely** _ **love**_ **watching dancing- I am really in quite a bit of awe of anyone who can dance to some reasonable level and put themselves out in front of others to actually do it. I especially like seeing older 'in tune' partners dance ballroom- but not that weird over stylised competitive ballroom that you see in dance sports now- Blurk! And of course, I will always watch Fred Astaire with or without any given film partner until the cows come home!**

 **In researching about what Charles and Elsie might be dancing at the Ritz Restaurant, I came across a nice little US based blog by one Walter Nelson (** _ **Mass Historia)**_ **\- check it out at dr/adult-culture . Actually, it is a rather large blog about early 20th century dance culture and it is extensively researched and very well put together. Many thanks to Walter Nelson. **

**As much as the jazz-swing music may have been unavoidable for Chelsie in this 1926 setting- I do not think they would be caught out there doing the Black Bottom or the Charleston! According to an excellent** **Walter Nelson, those two dances might be seen as for young people only (Think Lady Rose with Jack Ross and pre- her presentation at court), and mature adults danced quite differently anyway. Given the high-class nature of the Ritz Restaurant, I do not think the style of music would have been** _ **quite**_ **so 'Bright Young Things' on a Sunday night.**

 **This link gives you a good feel for some of the music that they may have danced to, even though it is all post 1927 stuff- it is on the more subtle side of things and I think it may have been more what the Ritz may have had an orchestra playing at the time Chelsie are there. I think the first track would do for their first foxtrot, and the second as the waltz in their first foray onto the dance floor during dinner.** **watch?v=HeOQjyuPCms**

 **Actually, the YouTube channel** _ **pax41**_ **has loads of roaring 20s dance band music- so you could go and find your own favourites and imagine Charles and Elsie sharing a few dances in this new age for them.**

 **I hope I have dealt well enough with the Charles canon re. his dislike of jazz music by assuming Lady Rose called upon him to dance to it- so he is actually more open to it now- at least in my mind!**

 **Walter Nelson's blog also explains how the Foxtrot was pretty much a blank slate dance- where the man would lead a** _ **slow-slow-quick-quick**_ **walk about the floor and couples could improvise however they liked within it- with small toe kicks and the like. In England- they would have danced a version known as the British or International foxtrot where the side stepping moves and kicks would have been more fluid and less OTT Charleston-like than the US versions- from what I have read. In terms of the difference between a waltz and a foxtrot- the latter could be a little more intimate- by the looks of it- closer bodies, and far more movement of the man's right leg between the woman's as they progress around the floor (not quite as pronounced as a tango though, from what I can see), whereas a waltz requires a stricter framing of the dancers bodies at more of a distance from one another.**

 **I actually imagine Charles cutting loose a little bit in the foxtrot here with Elsie, getting quite a spacious flow happening because I reckon his size alone would see people making a bit of room for them as he cuts a swathe through the crowd! I imagine him maybe embellishing a few steps and almost lifting Elsie lightly and carrying her through or over the top of some of his steps that she may not be expecting, just because he is big and strong enough to so with some fluidity- but for the most part I envision Elsie being able to read his intended movements with ease and getting into the flow with him and them having that effortless grace that you see with older close couples on the dance floor. But really, film and live performance is the artistic medium that best suits dancing- not the written word. I guess I would just love to see Chelsie dancing on film really!- But it seems I will just have to imagine it. I hope these links also help you to fill in the gaps that my wording cannot.**

 **BTW-** **SIDE NOTE ON ONE OF MY CHARLES MOTIFS** **-**

 **Look out for Fred Astaire excited finger fluttering when he is about to get what he wants from a girl in a dance- it is so endearingly sweet**

 **e.g: 'The Carioca' from** _ **Flying Down to Rio**_ **watch?v=pVpFBoj-zeY** _ **(from 1:22),**_

 **and 'Night and Day' form** _ **The Gay Divorcee**_ **watch?v=ydxcHACwX4Y** _ **(from 2.28)**_

– **Oh!... just go and watch Fred Astaire films – do it!**

 **Anyway, as you know, the finger fluttering has been my 'Charles motif' throughout this fiction because I also noticed Jim Carter using that mannerism right from some early DA episodes - normally when Carson is in attendance and needing to think and control his reactions to something. And, although it may foreshadow Charles's late S6 palsy, please remember that I have chosen to write-off most of JF's S6 canon as a load of out of character old codswallop and boring aristocratic name dropping (** _ **not**_ **that I am not guilty of the latter in this Fic as well!). Anyway, just keep the sweet thoughts of a happy child inside Charles getting genuinely tingly all over whenever Elsie is near him. Keep it close to your hearts, I say –for it makes for a far happier ending for everyone really!**

 **Back to Dance in the Jazz age** **for those people who were not actually Fred and Adele Astaire, or Fred and Ginger as seen in the 1930s- i.e- the everyday, non-theatrical and social dancer. For them, dancing was just what you did to make your own entertainment on a night out.**

 **The Walter Nelson Blog includes this compiled video on the** _ **Foxtrot in the Jazz Age**_ **watch?v=DrLqM8mZhis -at about 1:20mins is the sort of thing Charles and Elsie might be dancing- and I envision it on a not too crowded dance floor- because it is a Sunday evening- and we have to dream that Charles could actually have a bit of space to cut loose a little - dance floors were actually normally packed back in the 1920s! **

**And this next link talks about how the waltz was evolving to a more intimate form than Charles and Elsie may have ever danced with the Grantham's in a Victorian Viennese style at the regular Servants' Ball** **dr/deco-waltz**

 **Hence, my reasoning for Elsie saying she has not done a foxtrot before, even though it was a common social dance since just prior to WW1- I just think Chelsie were too reserved and from a different era- and would not have danced in this more intimate, crowded dance floor manner that prevailed in the jazz age until this night of their honeymoon. More foxtrot info here:** **dr/foxtrot**

 **Charles and Elsie would have been well aware of Vernon and Irene Castle- they were as big as Fred and Adele Astaire were in the 1920s as a dancing couple- but in the pre-WW1 years. The Castle Walk is an up-beat but dignified one step- manageable for our old waltzing boobies. It could well have been played at a Servants Ball at some point before the war. It fell out of favour by the 1920s, but I will pretend the Ritz orchestra is having a bit of a throw-back nostalgia moment and they play it anyway.** **dr/ragtime-1step** **(Fred and Ginger's last film of the 1930s was a tribute to the Castles- this real life famous dancing couple- so it was a bit of a different vehicle for them – and with a sombre ending too).**

 **Charles and Elsie could probably have strung the tango together fairly easily as well- well, I am actually assuming Charles, more than Elsie- what with his dance forays with the young ladies of the house. Although, I think he may have just observed the girls practising it, and blustered about it being inappropriate for him to dance it with them! It is a rather intimate dance after all. If you look at the jazz age film in this link, you will see that, as a social dance, it was far more subtle and involved less demonstrative moves than we are probably accustomed to thinking of with the various forms of modern tango. But, it was still a close, sensual and intimate dance in the 1920s- and I have kept it as a slow one for the end of the night. As an example watch from about 1:46- 2:10mins in the tango in the jazz age video from this blog page** **dr/tango**

 **And other posts about dance in the jazz age are here:** **dr/taxonomy/term/104**

 **dr/ballroom-hints**

 **I love this next post** **that looks at how Charles might like to sneak a closer hold with Elsie by lowering their joined hands and drawing her towards him.** **h dr/dance-holds**

 **Astaire used to sneak that one in a lot with Ginger Rogers dances- positioning his open hand quite a bit back and away from her, and drawing her in to meet it, rather than him going to her so much- it suggests and element of free choice on her part that may not** _ **really**_ **have been there! I guess it does give the choice to refuse to join hands… kind of…sort of…!, but where would that leave you both on the dance floor if you refused I wonder?!**

 **Watch Fred do it in this dance-'Change Partners', from the 1938 movie** _ **Carefree**_ **,** **watch?v=kK-hT8ZDCWg** **,** **where he is actually trying to get Ginger's character alone in order to un-hypnotise her (yeah I know- Romantic comedy plot lines!)- she is in a trance for this dance which gives it a very strange feel (a touch of dancing with the dead almost?)- but it is just** _ **so**_ **beautifully done. Look at 1:27 mins to see how he draws her hand and body closer to him before finally closing the hold- sneaky bugger! – But who can blame her, even if I weren't hypnotised, I would give into it too!**

 **Sorry, I cannot help myself- I love Astaire's work sooo much. Look for when FA also sneaks in this other slick move (seen in some of the dances I have listed here- at least I think so- from memory!), where he releases Ginger out wide from him, moves around her, comes in under her arm and wraps himself back into her embrace again- so he is coming to her, rather than her slavishly following him always.**

 **Another thing to look for is how he so obviously and persistently chases, but Ginger is ultimately making a free choice to finally engage with him in a dance of equality- she always smiles first or accepts him with her eyes and takes his charms to be endearing, rather than tiresome or unwanted to her. And, as in the** _ **Night and Day**_ **piece, she even pushes him away a second time, it is stylised, but quite forceful, and it makes him have to prove his worth to her once again, but in this, he must also accept her fiery nature. Ginger generally plays a feisty working-class girl who can easily look after herself anyway- so she does not** _ **need**_ **a man- but instead** _ **wants**_ **to share her life with a man. The two will also often spar and goad each other with tapping routines, and they do a lot of side by side adn equal mirroring of each other/ symmetrical work together. FA often shadows her body positions from behind her too. FA will also willingly take on the feminine role and Ginger will dance him around at times- as when he strikes an attitude position and** _ **she**_ **spins** _ **him**_ **. Totally disrupting the gender norms for a couples dance- and so very clever for its day.**

 **Another side note really , but some of FA and GR's fun loving and comedic dances are the best!- One all-time favourite of mine is **_**Hard to Handle**_ **from the film 'Roberta' (1935)-** **watch?v=BwMA9H69qVc** **. I mean- They have a lovers tiff only with taps! Brilliant! Fred and Ginger really cut loose here and you can hear them laughing and enjoying themselves purely as dancers, not actors in a role. I love that Ginger is wearing pants in some of their numbers too- she completely holds her own with FA- just like Elsie with Charles- Fiery and free spirited and independent (Unless JF should get to her first!) :P**

**Now,** **no one really expects Chelsie to be breaking out in Taps mid-waltz- but I love the equality of their relationship that plays out in complex, and sometimes not very obvious ways with JC and PL's characterisations of Charles and Elsie, so that is what has made me see the links with FA's body of work in films. It is the give and take equality of the relationship that plays out in different ways across the FA dances he choreographed (especially with GR), that made his partnering stand out so much- at least that is what I reckon. And** _ **I just Love IT!**_

 **So, - Go and Enjoy! - for life is far, far too short to miss out on this amazing artwork IMHO.**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow.**

 **Oh- and one final note (read-major RANT!) regarding ****CRICKET!** **-**

 **WELL!- It sure ain't the gentleman's sport that Charles revered in 1926, ANYMORE-and I think it probably all started with the Bodyline Ashes series in the 1932-33. wiki/Bodyline In this series, the English team started bowling directly at the batsmen's bodies, to prevent them getting into good scoring shot positions. It was used to combat Australian Donald Bradman's extraordinary batting prowess, but it sometimes also led to player injuries that sent them off the field. This is where the term "It's just not cricket" developed- to denote behaviour that is- 'technically' within the written rules of a game (Or, at least it was not mentioned outright, and so was, therefore, difficult to ban at the time), but it is certainly outside the bounds of informally agreed upon gentlemanly behaviour for playing a fair game and giving your opponent a fair chance to actually defend their wicket (territory). The Bodyline bowling approach all led to much ill-will between the two teams. **

**Cricket for much of its history has tried to breed an approach to play whereby good and fair play and being magnanimous in defeat (e.g: walking from the pitch when you know you are out, even if the umpire may have missed the fact, and also accepting the umpire's decision as final and without complaint, even if you think they may have been it wrong), and not being boastful in success, but being appreciative of the good plays and successes of the other team and all players – these things were mutually applauded on both sides –** _ **know thine enemy-**_ **but respect them also- for they have gone to the effort of being there on the field with you. And it really was a sport developed by the nobility in England- and so it is** _ **in these**_ **aspects of the sport that I see Charles's strong attachment to the game.**

 **However, the worst of the sport really reared its ugly head in the utterly big-headed and woeful behaviour of sides like the Australian cricket team/s post the Alan Border years (1980s). Captain Mark Taylor then tried to kerb some of the excesses of poor behaviour in the 1990s and brought a little humility back to the sport through his own dogged, good performances, and also through his approach to his personal on-field struggles with poor batting form at times. But Australia** _ **truly**_ **failed on the world stage, IMHO as they proceeded to win absolutely every trophy possible in professional cricket under the brutal 'win at all costs' leadership (I use the term 'leadership' most reticently here) of Steve Waugh (I do expect the odd death threat from the true believers now!) However, as the captain, Waugh (1999-2004) (and the rampant commercialism of the sport by this point in time, anyway) put paid to any sort of reasonable on and off-field etiquette being displayed from** _ **any**_ **of the world's top class cricketing nations (war-like in name and in nature perhaps?) Anyway, I think it has been steadily downhill ever since in terms of respect and sportsmanship across the board. Although, there are always some individual players who maintain the spirit of the game in their behaviour and approach- but they are truly up against it if they actually act upon these sensibilities too often- such as walking from the pitch unbidden by the umpire if they know that they are out- video umpiring has taken away much of that guess work though. So, as much as I accept that sporting rules and habits and culture must change with the times, I do think- like Charles, that if you lose the actual spirit of the thing in the chase for the new or the monetary gain only- then it is a diminished thing and makes us lesser people for it- so perhaps we should just call it something entirely different?. And, as such – I refuse to watch the sport of cricket anymore- particularly the ridiculous 'Pyjama Clad Backyard Cricket Slog-fest and Full-time Sledging Match' that is** _ **Twenty-20**_ **cricket today. Shameful, shameful stuff. IMHO.**

 **Thankfully most of my readers appear to be from the USA- so I am less likely to offend anyone who actually cares about said sport enough to type something to revile me! :P …It really is not personal- just my observations of the bits of cricket I know about- which I freely admit is by no means exhaustive nor of any immense depth. Still, other people's ongoing enjoyment of the sport will survive quite well enough without me- of that I am sure!**

 **OK- My one-time 'cricketing rant' is now officially over!**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow :)**

 **P.S: I do love getting some reviews :) Thanks.**


	28. Chapter 28- With All My Heart

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 28- With All My Heart.**

 **A/N 1:** **Thank you so much for the reviews. I love receiving them and try to PM respond if you are signed up. Thanks to all the Guesties too!**

 **I am glad the reference notes I like adding appeal to some people out there too. Just skip them if they don't. I have given it all a rest for this chapter, though- for what will be seen as obvious reasons!**

 **Suzie \- just Wikipedia 'cricket' and the 'bodyline series' for any more info you might want. There was also an Australian TV miniseries _'Bodyline'_ from 1984 that was quite good- from memory. It starred Hugo Weaving and Gary Sweet- that might be a good way to go, but I am not sure how easy it will be to get, though. It is an interesting sport with a great history- but I am no expert, and as I said- I am a now lapsed follower of that particular faith (amongst others as it turns out!) :P **

**A/N 2:** **The Last Tango in London continues upstairs for Charles and Elsie.**

 **So… obviously- NSFW !**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** **Original characters written and authored by The Honourable Julian Fellowes, England. This not-for-profit campaign message remains unauthorised but written by me, BorneToFlow- with the very best of intentions for all involved.**

 **CECECECECE**

 _But Charles's eyes have darkened once more as he looks up from his perusal of the menu and sees Elsie taking another sip from the remains of her glass of wine._

 _"Besides which,… I…I am afraid they don't actually serve what I was really hankering for,…Els-sie," he draws out her name in a thinly veiled and desire-filled hiss._

 _"And what is that, Mr Carson?" she asks quietly, still concentrating on maintaining some sort of control over her body's reactions to her man._

 _"Forfaitaire de gelée fondante."_

 _She arches an eyebrow at him, expecting a translation, but none is forthcoming. Charles just releases a very low and whisper quiet humming groan as he looks longingly at his wife's lips, where she has just licked the last drops of her red wine from them._

 _Absently, almost breathlessly, his eyes not leaving her full and lush lips, he stumbles out "How… about we just skip coffee and … maybe… call down for the cheese later, Mrs Carson?"_

 _Knowing that the meal will be charged automatically to their room account, Charles does not actually wait for a response. Instead, he rises quickly and sees to Elsie's chair as he more briskly states, "Come to think of it, Mrs Carson, I am absolutely certain that I can live without_ ever _having dessert in the Ritz Restaurant." He offers her his arm. "Shall we?" he asks and then intones low and close to her ear, "mon forfaitaire de gelée fondante."_

 _Recognition sparkles brightly in Elsie's eyes and red heat prickles across her décolletage._

 _"_ _Well_ _… It appears that a lass need not_ even _leave London in order to run away with_ some _sort of swarthy Gaul, Mr Carson!" Elsie breathes out lustfully to Charles, and she gleefully allows herself to be escorted, at a rather rapid pace, from the restaurant and up to their suite, having neglected to retrieve their hats and coats from the cloak room._

 **CECECECECE**

Still stringing hot with the latent need that their last sensual dance downstairs kindled within them, Charles has barely shoved their room door closed with his heel before he captures Elsie's mouth in a hot and thirsty kiss. Fumbling blindly behind himself in order to slide the lock home, he can taste the heady remains of the red wine on her lips and he licks and teases it away with his tongue until all that he can sense is the delightful soft flavour of his Elsie.

Elsie is already working to remove his white tie and collar, dropping them to the floor as she returns his kisses with equal fervour and they back slightly into the room. Her hands reach to slide his tail coat off his shoulders as his large warm hands grip and fondle at her hips through the silk of her wedding dress. He removes each hand in turn only to allow the coat to drop to the floor, for her warm softness is far too enticing not to be in constant contact with it.

"Dear God, Elsie Love," he moans against her lips, "I feel like I married you all over again today."

 _Oh, my sweet Lord! He says the dearest possible things!_

But spoken words fail her and she goes to suck at her bottom lip between her teeth in that special way she has. He senses it with his lips and lightly captures her bottom lip between his own teeth and runs his tongue over its swollen ruby smoothness. She gasps and her own tongue strikes out to run inside his top lip, eliciting a deep rumbling groan from him that she feels vibrate through her skin and straight to her tightening core.

As they stumble their way closer to the bed, he somehow manages to toe his dress shoes off while removing some of the pins from Elsie's hair. She has moved to placing hot open mouthed kisses along his now exposed neck for it is far easier for her to reach this lovely part of his skin as they move. He groans out his hot pleasure and he gives up on trying to find any more hairpins to toss aside once he feels the rounded silk covered buttons at the back of her gown. He begins slipping these open with one hand instead. His other hand is boldly drawing the hem of her dress up so that he can run his fingertips over the smooth silk of her fine stockings at the backs of her legs.

As he bends to take his turn to kiss and nip at her fine neck her arms wrap around his neck and she drags her fingers up through his hair, ruffling it completely. Straightening his back and lifting her slightly off the ground as she clings to him, she giggles as he delights in how ticklish the backs of her knees are and he knows there will be much fun to be had teasing her there with his touch in the days to come, but right now his most fervent desire is to feel her naked against him once more and calling out his name in pleasure to the night.

The buttons all dispensed with, he places her on the floor again and rapidly pulls the dress higher. She releases her hands from the shirt studs she had moved her hands down to and was uselessly fumbling with, and raises her arms to assists him with removing her gown. He has grabbed her shift along with it and he reaches high above her head to remove both garments in one sweeping motion- dropping them quickly aside as the sight of her décolletage blushed deep red stops him in his tracks and he dives his head down to lick along her collarbones. Her head falls back as she groans his name out long and low, her hands grasping at his wrists where he has gripped back onto her fleshy hips and is squeezing them through the satin smoothness of her briefs. She is blindly pulling at his cufflinks and somehow manages to get these out of their buttonholes, yet she still has the presence of mind to resist her first instinct, which is to toss them forcefully aside. Instead, she roughly pushes them into his waistcoat pocket. With his head bent down to her chest she is able to crane her neck enough to lick lavishly around the shell of his ear and he breathes out a hot shuddering sigh of pleasure against her chest. She roughly shoves her hands under his waistcoat collar to pull open the shirt buttons down his back. She is sure she hears more than one of them break its threads in her frantic need to gain more access to his skin.

Charles has moved his open mouth to run fiery wet kisses across the top of her breasts where the scalloped edge of her brassiere sits in pale cool contrast to the hot blushed skin he tastes. He starts moving them both towards the bed again as Elsie's hands work frantically to try and undo his waistcoat buttons.

 _Dear God! It's worse than a ruddy corset!_ She thinks wildly.

"Grr…Aah! Ooh! Help me with these Charles!" she cries.

Love-fugged from the wonderful sensations of her rolling, moaning brogue in his ears and of his tongue on her lust reddened pillowy breasts pressed up above the smoothness of her brassiere, he lifts his head and looks at her a little blankly just as the backs of her knees hit against the bed and he feels her falling away from him. Instinctively one of his hands leaves her hip to support her upper back and he braces his knee around her side and onto the edge of the mattress so as to lower her more gently onto the crisp clean sheets. He sees her wild frantic eyes touched with tenderness once more for the care he still takes with her, even from within the deep clutches of his wild lust for her. He smiles a proud and broad, desire-filled smile at his passionate wife as her strong but delicate fingers keep fumbling at his clothing, trying to get to _more_ of him. He consciously slows himself down so that he can better see her desire rise up over her skin, for she gives him _far_ too much pleasure not to sip slowly at their lovemaking…to draw it out…to savour it.

Still with one foot on the floor, he runs his hand from around the top of her back and draws it slowly and firmly down her front, over her breastbone and onto her belly as he draws himself upright to look upon her. Her back arches so that she can better meet his touch.

 _Dear God! She is just so very,…_ _very_ _beautiful._

Seeing the change in his pace, Elsie's panting breath slows a little, but the frantic longing in her core cannot be stilled. She wants him.

"Cha _rr_ les," she breathes out to him.

His hand flutters and then lingers over her hot centre as he smooths his fingers over the satiny fabric that covers her hot need.

"Yesss…a chagair… _yess!"_ she moans out as her hips roll seductively for him.

Then he firmly presses the base of his hand up to cup her and he can feel her moisture pooling there and marking her scent onto his palm through the fine fabric.

 _God! I want to taste her again!_

… _But there is time…Charles- there will be time._

Instead, he leans back down over her and kisses once onto her womanhood- his hot breath seeping through the fabric to her core as she pushes up towards his face and sighs a shuddering moan out over the top of his name. He inhales her beautiful aroma and then moves over her graceful recumbent form- pointedly rubbing the stiffened front of his dress shirt and the rounded pearl buds of his shirt studs up over her covered womanhood. Starch scrapes satin, creating a delightful friction for her and filling her clear blue eyes with a moment of shocked lust.

"Hah! Aagh! Cha _rrles."_

 _Never …! Never! Oh! Dear God!_

Never could she have imagined he would be _such_ a creative lover! From grating frustration to thrilling enchantment! -But he was _ever_ thus with her- always turning her sparking vexation _at_ him around to an utter delight _in_ him.

He looks into her eyes with knowing and wicked playfulness as he continues his long slow path up her body, the studs dip and press in a smooth tortuous line over, then into and out of her navel while her whole belly rasps under the harshness of the shirt front. The five cloth covered buttons of his waistcoat follow up over her mound and trap that smooth exotic peach toned fabric lightly in her liquid valley just as the tiny hard shirt studs start pressing into her breastbone through her satin brassiere.

 _Such exquisite contrasts!_ Her body struggles to process it all and her back arches instantly towards him as her hands pull strongly at the shoulder seams of his waistcoat- drawing him up to her mouth so that she may claim him in another thirsty and fevered kiss. She nips and licks at his reddened lips as she pulls his bulk down on top of her, rubbing her hands firmly over his biceps and his back through the weight of his clothing.

 _God! Why can't I feel his skin yet?_

One of her legs has hooked over his waist, and as she pulls the hardness of his arousal against her throbbing core she realises that she still has her shoes on. But it can wait. She _needs_ his skin and so she moves her mouth to his cheek and starts to speak against it, but he has spied, once more, the lengthened expanse of her supple neck and the pearls that encircle it and his head has plunged down so that he can trace his tongue along the smooth bumps and ridges of her precious necklace while tasting the sensitive skin of her neck.

All other speech is temporarily forgotten and she moans out loud and long to him.

"Moohhrr! Oooh!... Cha _rr_ les!…Charles! Take it off!"

She is not sure if she means his shirt or her necklace first, for she is worried it will break as they become carried away with each other again.

Charles manages to stop himself and looks again into her eyes. She is panting and writhing beneath him, grinding against his hardness. His breath is laboured and short. He worries that his weight on top of her is too much so he rises up and has taken up her directive to finally rid himself of some clothing. He feels her leg slide off his lower back but her hips are still undulating towards him sensuously as he kneels back up between her legs and quickly unbuttons his waistcoat. As he shrugs it off his shoulders and is about to toss it aside she takes in a sharp breath then calls out to him.

"Charles! Our six-pence!" like it is the most precious treasure in the world to them, and in a way- _it is._

He loves her so very much for her deep care for that which he sees as important, and so he quickly feels for the silver penny in the pocket then throws the waistcoat aside, pocket watch and all, as he lunges over her to reach out and slam the coin down on the bedside table as he captures her lush and beautiful lips once more in another searing kiss. He knows he had meant to slow himself down but she just makes it so _damned_ difficult. Her hair is mussed and partly undone, but her neck is still ringed with that perfectly elegant necklace- she is wild and refined all at once. Frantic in her want for him, garlanded in the symbol of _them_ \- the polished gift of his very deepest regard for her- He has _never_ seen anything so beautifully erotic to him.

 _By GOD! She is stunning!_

One of her hands has pulled his shirt from the back of his trousers and she slides her searching fingers underneath it, but her up and down strokes on his back are still restricted by his braces and her other hand is clawing at his shirt studs again, struggling to work them loose in the pressed space between their chests as they continue to kiss deeply. She has been moaning against his lips but it soon turns to a low growl of frustration and she just starts to grasp at the fabric at his shoulders, trying to lift his shirt up over his head, but the studs and his infernal braces are still in place and the neckline is too small to move it past his taut shoulders. She is whimpering in her frustrated need to feel all of his skin next to hers and so he breaks their kiss and pushes himself off her once more, making short work of the studs, shoving them deep into his trousers pocket as Elsie tears his braces off his shoulders and reaches to help him draw the shirt off over his head.

 _Finally! I can touch him!_

Elsie pushes herself up onto one hand as her other grips around one of his pectoral muscles and her mouth plunges to his collar bone and licks and nips along it.

"Oh! Els-siee…" he hisses out and it just spurs her on. She loves the feel of his silvery fine chest hair against her palms and she rubs her hand firmly over him as her eager tongue traces the same sensations down to his nipple, which she sucks heavily into her mouth. She can smell the masculine sweat rising from him, clean but with a woody musk, and it is utterly intoxicating to her. She inhales the strength of him- deeply- as one of his hands kneads at her breast through her brassiere. Elsie keeps up a furious pace, licking hot kisses all over his nipple- pulling and nipping at it lightly with her teeth as Charles tangles his other fingers through her hair and he pants out low moans as his hips buck uncontrollably towards her.

 _I want him!_ her mind shouts as her hand starts to feather a path from his chest down to his waistband… and lower. Charles groans out incoherent sounds as she firmly presses her hand over his arousal and it jerks towards her touch, then she quickly moves her hand back up to unbutton his trousers and pull the drawstring on his shorts.

Charles is still kneeling up between her legs and Elsie now releases his nipple from her mouth and he whimpers at the loss of that deathly hot sensation. She lifts both her hands to his shoulders and uses his steady bulk to support her movement up onto her own knees in front of him. His arms move immediately to encircle her waist and his hands start squeezing at her delightfully broad and fleshy hips. He loves _all_ of her abundant softness and he soon starts exploring up over her whole back again, pulling one of the straps of her brassiere from her shoulder to fondle at that fine white smooth skin as he leans his head down to trace a wet path up the sides of the opposite shoulder strap. Elsie sighs low and grinds her hips into Charles' hard heat as she works his trousers and shorts down his legs. Once he is free she reaches her hands around and grips at his firm buttocks, squeezing and digging in her nails as she pulls his naked heat towards her own satin covered fluid warmth.

"Ha! Arghh!" Charles feels his hardness pressed up against the soft cloth and the silky skin of her belly and he snakes one of his hands down her back, threading it boldly between her legs from behind to press and stroke firmly at her beautiful heat through that delightfully smooth layer of fabric.

 _Hot! Wet!_ \- The only clear thoughts his mind can form in that sweet moment.

He grunts low with animal need for her and gasps as her hips buck under his touch and she presses even closer into his hardness, rolling herself over his exploring fingers. He feels hot blood surge low within him.

"Elss-ssie…" he growls as she simultaneously moans out his name against his chest as she continues to place hot wet kisses across his skin.

"I _want_ you, Charles" she manages to rasp out against his hot skin, and he just holds her even tighter to him and keeps rubbing firmly at her centre with his strong broad fingertips. She arches her heat even closer towards him.

He leans his body into hers to motion them back onto the mattress, but somehow from within her lust-drugged mind she controls her arms and presses her hand harder into his chest and gasps out "Necklace! Charles...it will break," and her other hand leaves where it was rubbing firmly onto the back of his thigh to start worrying at the delicate crystal clad clasp of her pearls.

"Leave it on" he growls low and in one smooth motion he manages to dive past her and turn her on top of his lap as he thumps himself back onto the mountain of pre-fluffed pillows as he sits up against the quilted headboard of the bed.

She is momentarily shocked at this sudden move and as a worried look crosses her face he slows himself and traces his fingertips along the smooth bumps of the necklace and he repeats more softly, "Leave it on Love.… Pl _eas_ e Elspeth…I _will_ be careful."

And the tender and lust-filled look in his soulful eyes makes her heart restart and she leans in to kiss him tenderly on his lips.

"Oh…a chagair…" she moans into his mouth as their kiss deepens once more- but slower now, languorously, as she leisurely rubs her heat swollen mound up and down his length through the satin shine of her briefs.

 _Heavenly!_ They think as one.

They breathe in unison-slow, deep and panting- punctuated by soft moans and affirmations of mutual pleasure. His hands have returned to her glorious hair and he continues to remove some pins and tosses them off the edge of the bed so that they won't dig into them tonight. Finally, her braid drops free and he pulls the small linen tie from its end and slowly unravels the careful work she allowed him to fashion onto her giving body just that morning. She allows him _so MUCH pleasure_ he thinks and his heart overflows for her as he gently runs his large fingers through her luxurious, silken locks once more.

As he licks and sucks unhurriedly at her neck around those beautiful round and smooth pearls. She sighs his name and mimics the action of his tongue with her soft fingertips running over his hardened nipples. He surges and sighs with each of circling of her fingers at his chest and the rolling of her hips against him. He is painfully ready for her but she still has entirely too many clothes on and he starts roughly shuffling his legs beneath her in order to kick his own trousers all the way off from his confined ankles and then he toes off his socks. Each movement brings different shocks of pleasure to them as Elsie rolls against his hardness in unexpected ways. They smile broadly at each other- almost giggling aloud at times- if it weren't for the rasping friction that sets them groaning ecstatically to each other first.

His hands have traced down to the backs of her thighs and he strokes firmly through the gossamer silk of her stockings, then he tracks his fingertips over the straps of those exotic garters and unclips each buttoned hasp before steadily running the silk down her legs as far as he can reach, bunching them about her knees and then caressing his hands back up her thighs as her stomach shimmers against his in a long shuddering rill. Finally, his hands coming to rest on her full and fleshy hips where he fondles and squeezes her heavily once more. He cannot get enough of them tonight- not since they were swaying so sinuously with him as they danced.

 _Delightful!_

And he absolutely _adores_ seeing her astride him like this. Vigorous. Lissom and elegant -and oh!  so very _vital_ \- with her hair draped over her shoulders and full breasts, and which floats like a secret veil around his head. He can smell the fresh soap of the morning still rising warmly from it.

Now his mouth has moved down from her neck and he is kissing her breasts through the fabric of her brassiere, his hot breath drawing deep moans from her and he simply must feel all of that plentiful soft flesh directly under his tongue, so he moves his hands up her back and blindly starts worrying the buttons of the garment. They are small and fiddly and he is no longer coordinated enough to manage them. Elsie brings her hands up behind her back to help him and as she does so her chest arches more strongly into his searching hot mouth and she moans his name deeper and thicker to the night. Finally, the garment if freed and she brings her hands back to brace herself in her fervour against his shoulders. Charles feels the fabric start to loosen near his lips and he grabs its cup between his teeth to draw it away from her body as one of his hands runs the last strap off her shoulder.

 _God! It is just_ _so_ _exquisite to be able to unwrap her._

He drags the smooth cloth out from between their bodies on his fingertips and tosses it aside as his mouth dives back to her hot red skin and he captures one of her stiffened nipples deep into his mouth, groaning long against her silky soft womanliness as his tongue plays around the contrasting hardness of that perfect bud of life. His other hand kneads firmly at the whole of her other cushiony breast and his fingertips play gently into the cup of her scar.

 _Love her..._

 _God…_

 _Love…_

 _Her._

Fragments of sentences and pure feeling are all that loops through his mind in that glorious moment as she throws her head back in ecstasy rubbing her moist heat hard and fast against him as she cries out her Gaelic endearment to him into the night air.

"A-Hagherr! Cha _rr_ les! Mohr!" His hips rise up to press himself harder to her core and he feels the friction of their lust slick wet and hot along his length and then it rapidly cools across him. Such extremes of sensation he has _never_ known- he will never know- not anywhere else!

 _Elsie. Love_.

The vinegar sting of impatient hunger draws fierce liquid from the sides of his tongue. He wants to engulf all of her sweet and salt–filmed breast within his mouth. He knows he cannot ever possibly get enough of her.

 _Dear God!_

"Oh God" he growls into her flesh- helpless in the face of his insatiable need for all of her. The vibrating tones of his voice against her stiffened nipple make her shudder and mewl and grind once more against him.

 _It is_ _too_ _much!_

 _NEVER enough!_

All their thoughts and feelings are aligned. Elsie needs to be naked and she roughly breaks his mouth's hold on her breast to lean her hands back on his thighs as she draws her feet up level with his hips.

"Cha _rr_ les..Help me with these. Oh God. ..please, quickly!" She pants out. Her chest is heaving and her stomach muscles are trembling in her need to have him. Her breasts are still craving his touch _so_ much that as he fumbles with the clasps of her shoes she grasps at her own breast and squeezes it mercilessly as she grinds her heat again into the base of his hard length, rhythmically moaning long and loud- his name, her name for him, their God.

"Cha _rr_ les..Cha _rrles…A chagair…_ _Ó dhìol!_ … _Ó dhìol!_

The wall lights glint off the clasp of her necklace. Her hair drapes in a tangled mess around her own slight fingers pinching at her nipple. _SO excruciatingly beautiful_.

"Oh dear God!...Elsie…Yesss… Yess…"

 _Wild. Refined. Elsie. My Elsie_.

"Want you…" he pants and gasps to her "..S _ooo_ much, Els..Oh, God! Els…"

He forgets the clasp of the second shoe and merely pulls it from her foot with a firm tug and throws it aside to join the other one somewhere on the floor about the bed. Then he hurriedly pulls her bunched stockings away from each leg, brushing his hot fingertips over her sensitive ankle bones making her yelp out in delight. He fumbles wildly with one sheer stocking that catches around his wrist as he tries to toss it aside. A frustrated growl escapes his lips as he frees himself from the silk and then briskly shoves his fingertips into the waistband of her briefs and frantically pushes down to remove them, but he huffs a harsh breath out through his nose when he realises that the few buttons at her side are preventing any movement.

"Hunh!..Els…"

He looks so frantic and forlorn that somehow in her grinding fervour Elsie sees this and moves her supporting hand from just above his knee to sit upright over his thighs to hastily undo the buttons. Then she falls forward onto him- gripping heavily, almost painfully, into his shoulders as she captures his lips in yet another bruising kiss, her hands running up to the back of his lust reddened neck to tangle her fingers into his lovely tousled silver hair- grasping strongly at him and pulling his head back lightly onto the quilted headboard to better expose his neck so that she can run her tongue over his moaning and vibrating Adam's Apple and up and back along his manly jawline that she so admires- kissing and licking into the cleft of his chin and then lavishing a hot wet path over to his ear to nibble and caress his fleshy earlobe with her love swollen lips. He groans low and bucks his hips beneath her. She is relishing having so much access to his skin and sharing her chance to adore his beautiful body.

His broad hot hands make short work of pushing the last remaining, frustratingly restrictive piece of clothing from her that has been keeping their fevered bodies apart. As the garment reaches near her knees, Elsie arches her chest against his torso as she pushes her legs out long from her position astride him and then shimmies them down her lower legs until she can kick them off, leaving them scrunched somewhere near his ankles with his own crumpled trousers. She feels him kicking the pile of clothes aside for they are annoyingly distracting- all he can cope with in this moment is the feel of the smooth sheets against the backs of his legs as his mind and body tries to keep track of every intricate and lovely detail of his wife.

Her belly is pressed hard against him now, he can feel her hot wet curls scrape against the base of his manhood as his hands knead once more across her muscle tightened thighs then the fullness and softness of her hips. He slips his fingers around the back of her legs again to fondle at her silky, smooth, hot and wet folds and she bucks sharply backwards against his fingers.

 _Chiaroscuro!_

There are so many startling contrasts to her that he cannot possibly process it all and can only shudder bodily against the vigorous and lithe length of her form against his. He groans deep into her pliant mouth as she cries her sudden pleasure to him.

"Oh God! Elsie please.." he rasps out "Now, please. Yess…Els…Els…Now!" he pants out as he bends her legs to straddle him again. She presses and runs his hot and silky hard length down through her slick and throbbing valley as he uses his firm grip at her hips to guide and raise her up over him. They sigh long and low together into their frenetic kisses. When she feels his hot tip at her ready entrance she pushes her hands hard into his shoulder flesh again and breaks their heady kiss to raise her head away from his so that she can see deep into his loving and lust burnt eyes.

In unison, their faces break into the most joyous of smiles as she slowly begins to lower herself onto him.

 _Bliss!_

They both release low guttural groans as she takes him into her by the slowest of increments. It is as if this final barrier to their most intimate connection, now breached, has quelled their turbulent minds from their almost furious explorations of their purest senses. They are both incredibly lucid and present- in the moment- with each other.

Still breathing hot and heavy together- they pause.

She feels his very tip throbbing just inside her.

He feels her inner muscles hotly pulsing around him.

Then she drops herself a little lower.

They groan long sighs together and she lifts ever so slowly again, until he is almost fully out of her, then she plunges more rapidly down, taking just a little more of him.

 _Heaven!_

They look blissfully at one another, almost laughing aloud at their joy for each other as she repeats the process- slow then fast until she finally has him completely filling her.

 _So_ deep.

So _very_ deep.

And then they stop just to _feel_ it all. His strong hands gripping into her fleshy cheeks and pressing her firmly down onto him. Hot and pulsing. Full. Gentle. Holding. Deep. Holding on. Sharing this moment of pure union together. Taking it all in. Savouring their finest connection. Ingraining the memory in their minds and drawing this boundless love into their shared history.

 _So full._

 _So embraced._

 _Perfection._

Their hearts and eyes silently say all these things to the other.

 _Closeness._

 _Total accord._

 _Love._

"Oh, a chagair…" they both say together and kiss tenderly once more.

He lifts one hand to gently trace his fingertips over her budded necklace into her soft skin as Elsie rolls her hips to rub her stiffened nub against his rasping curls just above where they are joined. They feel her moisture pooling rapidly around them as she starts to draw slowly up once more.

 _Exquisite!_

"Oh Cha _rr_ les… soo…so… different…" she stammers out. " It's Soo good…mmm…so ve _rry_ good!" Her brogue is utterly mesmerising to him. She lifts slowly and plunges down once more- and it is all too, _too_ delicious not to repeat that languid motion that brings on that tightening joy within them and skirts on the very edge of blinding ecstasy, so she rises once again and this time he pushes up to meet her on her rapid descent and they both cry out their wonder together – … _Charles! …Els..s..s!_ Then her hips roll and she rubs them firmly together once more.

His face to her shows an entrancing mixture pain and pleasure. She is not hurting him, but he is strung out over the conflict of his desire to let go of himself completely and safely in her arms and his fervent wish to give her so very much more of himself.

 _Is this rapture? Dear God!- He is_ _so_ _very beautiful._

She moves again- slowly- she wants to show him now with her body- show him her heart's truth- show him everything he means to her- show him all of her love for him- by giving her whole self freely and fully to him- giving him everything she has. She is happily and completely open in his arms and she has never felt more completely held and safe and powerful and free than she does in this moment with him. She feels blessed to hold him so safely within her body- wants him to feel her right there with him- on that fine line with him- in his pain and in his pleasure. In his rapture. In his absolute perfection. He _is_ perfect.

"Ó dhìol! A ghràidh. Tha mo ghion ort, a chagair," she repeatedly chants her devotion huskily as she rhythmically rises and falls over him "Tha mo ghion ort, a chagair,…a chagair…Oooh!"

"Elsie Love. Els. Aagh! -Tha mo ghion ort, a chagair. Oh! Oh, my Love. My Love!"

His voice to her is like hot thick mead on a bitingly cold night. She continues gasping her devotion to him out over the delightful friction of the slow and precise but steadily increasing pace of their movements together- until she calls, almost incoherently, to him- "French! Oh Cha _rr_ les! Say it! Tell…tell me! Say…oh god! French...in…in French.. say…Ah…augh!"

He understands- and somehow he drags up through the stupor of his molasses-thick and love-strung mind the phrase for her… She wants it. He knows its undeniable truth and _he_ can give it. He _can_ give her this.

His hand reaches up to tenderly cup her jawline as his smallest finger reaches down to trace a short path back and forth over the small-budded pearls, pressing them lightly into her neck as he keeps his eyes locked onto hers. Her left hand is spread over his chest- above his pounding heart and he grasps at it with his own left hand, fondling around the base of her wedding band, and then he tells her with every ounce of conviction he has within him.

"Je vous aime de tout mon cœur, ma chérie…Je t'aime de tout mon cœur, ma chérie."

 _His voice! Exquisite! Never…never…heard…anything…soo…_

She cannot think anymore, she only feels. Feels his deep sonorous and truthful baritone vibrate straight from his heart in words she has never heard before but fully understands- rumbling like wild sweet thunder through his chest, through to their hot touching skin, past the gold band of their promise on her finger, stringing around the sensitive webbing at her palms as he strokes her there, featherlight, with his fingertips - she feel his hard deep length touching her- completing the connection to his words- meeting at the inside of her very soul- and in that instant she climaxes around him- starting soft and slow and then shuddering up uncontrollably to a fast rise of agonisingly sweet ecstasy. She wants to give him so much of herself. Wild fragments of thought return –

 _Want to give…_

 _Give it…_

 _Give it all… all_

 _All._

 _For him…_

 _He…_

 _He._

 _Always…Always!_

 _Gives me… so much… more!_

Her untamed voice rises with her- a wordless song sung deep into his heart.

" Mohr! Moohhhrrr! Aagh-hagh! Mohr!"

 _Dear God! She gives me all! She gives me_ _everything_ _!_

Her head keens sharply backwards as she wraps her arms heavily around his head and draws to him her heaving chest. His eyes are misting with the weight of unfallen joy for her as he lavishes kisses all over her breasts- anywhere he can lick and reach from the crushing grip she has in his hair. She tastes of hot and salty vulnerable lust and it is all for him. That he loves it is not nearly enough to describe what he feels- _Is there even life beyond this love?-_ _Beyond this gift?_ He absolutely revels in the gift of her finest pleasure- shown only to him- only in his presence. He is fighting for air against her but what he really feels that he could actually black out from the exquisite pain of this bliss. He needs to find his voice so that he can hang on to the reality of her, but he can only groan and show her with his body. He bucks his hips up into her- _I am here, Love! I am here!_

Monosyllables rise from somewhere within him – forming over his groans as he pounds and rises beneath her- trying to hold her up – helping her to soar even higher "Oh! Els!..Els! Yess! Yess! Love! Ah! Ah!"

She pants and gasps high while she keeps juddering over the top of him- finding yet another height of total piercing pleasure that she never knew she could ever have.

"A-hagherrr! Moo _hhrrr!_ Cha _rr_ les! CHARLES! Ó dhìol! MOOHHRRR! Hunh!... Aah! Ah! Ah!"

Her final shuddering moment of pure bliss takes all power of sound from her body- all breath. She just shakes and jerks silently and rises with the gentlest violence around him until she glides to her finish- where finally she can draw a shaking, high-pitched, yelping and sighing breath as she collapses fully back down onto him, her breasts shivering around his head as he pants out hot and sultry breaths onto her heat sparked skin. She still grasps at his hair like it is her lifeline, clasping his head strongly against her pounding chest.

Finally she releases her death grip on his hair and he lifts his shining reddened face- filmed with her piquant, lusty perspiration and the residue of his thirsty kisses. His eyes are alight with absolute joy for her- his gentle hands soothing her in long smooth strokes up and down her back and sides, rolling around her rounded cheeks then down her thighs and the backs of her calves, then languidly all the way back up again. Her skin relaxes and ripples beneath his touch as she kisses fuzzily across his chin then rests her forehead heavily against his- still feeling his thick and hardened silken heat pulsing within her, filling her completely- she looks deep into his loving eyes.

The first word she can form again is her hand reaching out for the lifesaving rock of him in the midst of her stormy ocean.

"Charles." -Just for the blinding, pure and simple _fact_ of him. He holds her.

 _It is enough._

 _It is everything_.

"Charles."

"I'm here, Love. I'm here." He pants out- still catching his breath. He raises his large hands to fully cup her face and he kisses her tenderly on the lips. Then looks deep into her deep blue eyes- "Are you all right, Love?"

"Oh…Charles." She kisses him again. "So _much_ more than 'all right', a chagair- So _very_ much more…"

And yet, she still she wants to give _him_ more, and this thought alone helps her find renewed energy for him, and she rolls her hips around him again. Tentative at first- for her legs have weakened and she knows that she will be sore, but it is worth every strained muscle to see his pleasure rise up within her grasp again.

That he held back from finishing with her just then astounds him. He worries that she is tiring so he asks her, "shall we move, Love?"- Just as she rolls her hips languidly around him and rises slightly over him again, making him groan long and low to her.

 _An absolute marvel!_

 _His Elsie._

 _Her Charles._

"No." she gasps with renewed pleasure- she did not know there was anything left that he could do to add to her contentment- but she finds it from him once more. She roughly pants out "Just like this Charles- I can see you- I want to see…I want you _just_ like this… but help me."

He needs no other instruction- but he wants her to know she does not have to- she can stop if she needs to. His hands still holding her face he reassures her, "Just tell me, Love- tell me if it is too much."

She just nods and shows him her absolute trust with her bright and longing eyes- drilled directly into his, her bottom lip already drawn into her teeth and she smiles impishly around it as she tries to hold onto her freshly growing and delicious enjoyment of the feeling of him hard within her.

She is new and different to him again! _How?_ She looks so beautifully _different_ and all he can do to let her know how superbly lovely she is- is… just to _kiss_ her with the most extreme tenderness he has ever felt.

With his thumbs wedged under each hip bone and his large hands spanning around to grip that gorgeous flesh of her buttocks he starts to guide her slowly up over him and down again. She is so swollen and tight around him- her sweet fullness holding him- loving every inch of him. He feels it all in her most intimate slow and hot and wet and rhythmic stroking of his manhood. They keep their eyes locked together and continue to enjoy that slow pausing friction as her hips undulate and her tightened nub rubs against him each time they bottom out together and fully connect once more.

 _So luscious!_

She assists him to start with, but as their pace increases he takes more of her weight in his strong hands as her muscles tire and cannot keep up with where they both want to go. His eyes stay on hers the whole time needing to know that the energetic friction he is chasing suits her too. But there really is no question- she is with him all the way- willing him to find his pleasure and building her own pleasure again just in watching him- in shadowing his pursuit.

Knowing she is with him his eyes feel safe to leave hers and he sees her rampaging at full pace over him as if for the first time. Most astoundingly to him, he sees the free and bouncing rhythm of her full legs and hips as she engulfs him- then her blushed and lust tightened breasts as she leans in and they rub furiously up and down his chest.

 _Magnificent!_

She is like a wave of pure delight crashing over him and as she rolls back from his chest, his head dives unheeded into the oncoming maelstrom. His mouth latches onto one of her stiff nipples like it is the final thread of his sanity that he must maintain- he must. He hears her cry out in agonising pleasure- but it is muffled by the pounding rush of blood in his ears that suddenly seems to be draining rapidly to his loins. He thickens and judders, then, amazingly- he slows – his ears have cleared of the throbbing rush of blood and he hears her again – and with his head instantly and frantically lucid- he knows- he wants - he _must_ have her with him as the final surge of his most powerful love for her rises steadily- driving onwards to connect with her completely.

 _Nothing…_

 _Nothing Better!_

 _Nothing better than…_

 _This!_

 _With me…_

 _ELS- with me!_

"CHA _RR_ LES! CHA _RR_ LES!"

 _Divine!_

"Aaugh! Els! ELS!"

He roars loud but muffled into her breast, her nipple still grazing up and down his swollen tongue as he dives one hand off her hip to rub his fingers frenziedly at her engorged bud as he thrashes beneath her and strikes up rapidly, repeatedly- rising up and meet her once more where she is at- right where she is soaring above him.

 _Luminous!_

She shouts his name over and over and he feels it through his skin. He knows. He knows- she is there with him and he is free to ride out this perfect storm with her and so he throws his head back into the pillows to watch her- his most piquant pleasure- as she drives her eyes into his and calls him on and on. He shouts prayers of thanks and utter nonsense to the night air in his blinding ecstasy- in his final pitch and swell- surging- right there. Right there. There with her- as she crashes back to earth around him and he plummets safely into her waiting arms and heart.

His head is spinning. Completely spent. He foggily senses the weight of her head against his sweating, heaving chest. Her silken swollen muscles still shimmer lightly and reflexively around him- like a shaking hand that does not really want to wave goodbye. His own hand rises before his eyes- hefty and dream-like from her hip, wilting into her hair across her back as the shaking fingers of his other hand drop away from her sodden centre and flops onto the bed, his palm adrift in supplication.

"Oh… Els…Els…" It is all his ragged throat and mind can manage.

Blood still pounds heavily through her veins; her chest is still blushed and palpitating roughly against him. Through her euphoria, she hears his distant call of thanks to her she lifts her swimming head to see Charles' head lolling elatedly up against the headboard- and, astonishingly, she feels sudden and complete clarity in that moment. She is perfectly lucid and…and proud…but also humble- _Of all things!_ And, quite astoundingly, she feels capable of more than just monosyllabic speech, and so Elsie stops and holds completely still for this blessed moment.

She knows she has shown herself to him- that he accepts all of her- and all that she has given- but she wants to tell him too–for she feels that, in always giving her such thoughtful gifts and ensuring her safety and seeing to her comfort and her pleasure and her complete contentment first, he somehow manages to show her and give her more than she has ever managed to do so _for him,_ thus far. She wants him to know how that care feels as well. She wants to tell him just how boundless she knows her love for him to be. Today- on _this_ day- their first _ever_ full day together. Together and alone. _Just them_ \- with absolutely no one else.

She threads her fingers through his hair and gently brings his head onto her breast once more. She holds him tight to her, wiping the sweat back from his brow, using it to slick back his wonderful thick hair from his fevered face, using her finger tips to massage gently into his scalp, she leans down to kiss across his forehead and inhale his virile manliness from his hair. He is still buried firm and intimately deep within her. Infinitely happy in her loving ministrations to his comfort, she moves his head back to rest into the softness of the pillows and leans over him to look closely and deeply-openly- and with pure honesty into his darkened eyes. She repeatedly smooths the lines of age and any lingering worries away from his brow and the corners of his eyes with her thumb-pads.

She knows she gave her vow to him in church yesterday- and she meant _every_ word of it, but they were coined by someone else- written for anyone who needs them- and she feels she needs to tell him in her very _own_ words- even if they say much the same thing all over again. She does not know where she is drawing the breath from for all of this, but the words come. They come from somewhere deep within her and in a smoky low voice, accent heavy and thickened with emotion, she calls him into her heart and she tells him- and she uses the language of his own great heart so that he will better know her truth-

"Charles, my dearest love- there has not been one single _moment_ of this day that I have spent with you that I have not completely adored. It was like having our very first day together, _ever_ – just the two of us and no one else- Only us. Together- Alone. And I will  cherish it _always_. A ghràidh- My Love. _Thank you_ my love. Thank you for being my man- my _most_ wonderful man. I feel like I married you all over again today too, a chagair, and… I only wish I could give you more,…but… sadly I cannot promise you something when we do not know anything with any surety beyond this life we have. But, what I _can_ definitely promise you is this much, a chagair- that until the very end of my days- I will love you. I will. I will always love you with all of my heart." And then she whispers it once more against his lips, "Tha mo ghion ort, a chagair." And then she seals her truth and her vow to him once more with a kiss upon his sweet lips.

His darkened eyes have pricked with heavy liquid love.

 _She gives me so much- so very, very much._

He thought he could not ever possibly love her more than he has already across these last years- these last two days, but she always helps him to see- helps him to plumb greater and greater depths of himself and his own devotion. His heart is full and it aches enormously as it rises and catches in his throat. He pulls her tight into his embrace and leans his forehead heavily into her own. His voice almost squeaks as it struggles out past the fullness and weight of his overwhelming emotions, "Me too," is all he can manage right now as he tries to swallow the heavy lump in his throat. But she knows- she did not need to hear it from him, but she still sees all of him in that moment- hears him say it all the same. He knows her truth and she knows his- and it is _all…_ and that is enough. It is enough.

CECECECECE

They stay holding one another, Elsie's head resting on Charles' chest, wedged up under his chin and listening to his pulse. They lazily circle fingertips onto each other's skin and through the other's hair until the chill of the night air on their drenched skin becomes uncomfortably cold. Elsie's legs seem to have jellified once more and it is with an unavoidable groan that she uses her own hand to physically lift one of her legs up and over Charles' lap until she can flop back onto the cloud of pillows next to him. She has seen the same shaking weakness in women after they have given birth and she wonders briefly, and somewhat weirdly if this is what it might have felt like for her. But then, she cannot help but giggle in silly pride that she might feel this merely for the act that might have brought about such a result in the first place in days gone by. _You undeniably lucky old duffer, Elsie!_ She thinks to herself.

"Happy, Elsie?"

"Mmm...Absolutely, my love" she purrs languidly. "You?" she asks back, as she somehow manages to move her leaden legs to hook the eiderdown between her toes and drag it up the bed until she can reach it to then toss it over them both.

"Mmm…Hmm." He mumbles before releasing a large, contented yawn.

"Roll over this way a bit, Love- or you will get cold- the sheets are damp."

"Hmm…" He rolls and replies sleepily, "you'll never hear any complaints from me regarding such a lovely circumstance that brings me back into your arms." It took all the energy he had left just to string what he imagines are somewhat eloquent words together… he is not even entirely sure it actually made any sense. _It does not matter_ , he figures as he yawns again. His last vision is of Elsie shuffling closer to him and wrapping the blankets lovingly around his shoulders as she settles comfortably-sated and sleepy-into his embrace. The last muffled sound he hears is her sweet admonishment to him-

"Quiet, you."

Following her directive, he sleeps with the warm scent of clean soap from Elsie's hair feathering near his face, and with the heavenly musk of their lovemaking rising from their skin and marking a new memory in his subconscious mind of their beautiful and incredibly fortunate life together.

 **CECECECECE**


	29. Chapter 29- Only Connect

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 29- Only Connect**

 **Author Notes-** **I hadn't intended to update with a new chapter for quite a while, but the post-Christmas/ pre-New Year stillness afforded me some time to get a lot of this done. And boy- what a journey it has been! This chapter started with the germ of an idea in one piece of dialogue that I penned a long time ago, and it has taken me close to15,000 words to get Charles and Elsie to the point where they actually speak it to one another! And all for what probably only equate to an hour or so of their real-time honeymoon. It is such a flippant line at the end of the day, too. Crazy! Sorry if lengthy reads are not your thing, but I did not want this broken across different chapters.**

 **There will be more chapters in the distant future- I just don't know when or how many- and I am still doing some present tense editing updates for previous chapters. I am slowly pegging out how I can reasonably cover certain, what I deem as, important emotional events in our heroes lives and so maybe move them to new levels of understanding, growth and connection in this one fiction. Then I will likely call it a day for DA.**

 **Literary references :** **On the subject of** _ **connection**_ **\- there are distinct pieces of literature that have influenced, to a degree, the ways I understand and have explored these characters- and none more so in this particular chapter than E.M Forster's** _ **Howard's End.**_ **This chapter's title is a reference to the epitaph of that book and an essential musing from Margaret Schlegel about Henry Wilcox in the novel. I have included that quote at the end of this piece if you are interested. Margaret and Henry are sufficiently different from Elsie and Charles to be highly intriguing in their own right, but perhaps similarities can be still found in their respective counterparts.**

 **I have often wondered what literature has influenced a writer like Julian Fellowes, and I would hazard a guess that Forster, Austen and the Bronte sisters are on the list- and possibly Kazuo Ishiguro with the** _ **Remains of the Day**_ **too. Thankfully for us, Charles Carson has never subscribed to living a life of quite the same severe asceticism and total adherence to duty alone that Stephens the butler did in Ishiguro's novel does- but I do think a few small similarities may be found between Elsie and Mrs Kenton and Charles and Mr Stephens. Revisit or track down and read these great novels if you have not done so already. The films of both are great too- both starring the ever wonderful Emma Thompson and Anthony Hopkins. I still hope for a version of Macbeth with these two one day- but methinks the time for that to plausibly happen has well and truly passed (Actually- Rickman and Thompson may have been even better- circa the late 1990s). Sadly, we cannot have it all.**

 **I am sure there are many more literary works that influence JF, but these are just a few that mean a lot to me, so I probably see more of them in his work than is actually there! I would love your thoughts about others you think may appear in his style/storylines. Leave it in a review perhaps?**

 ****Warning: I have touched on some Christian rituals imagery in this fiction. It is not my intent to offend anyone of faith, but if you are sensitive to this sort of thing, maybe don't read this.**

 **On eroticism :** **Imagery that inadvertently emerged in my writing of the NSFW erotica that I ended up presenting here I have had to attribute to the influence of a particular Romantic-era poem. I only realised the connection was there after I re-read and edited my own work, so I have included that poem at the end for your enjoyment, too. It will include some additional notes regarding it.**

 **Also, I will cover a few points about why I have described certain** _ **delicate**_ **things in this piece in a particular manner. I will keep that brief and do it via a web link only for those who want to follow such an odd thing up- historical accuracy knows no bounds it seems!**

 **But first of all, see if you can guess the poem I was influenced by!**

 ****Warning:** **So once more- in Chapter 29- hefty internal reflections and some light humour (I hope!) abounds for Chelsie, but it does contain adult content and is, therefore, NSFW. Don't read it if that is not your thing.**

 **Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **CECECECECE**

 _ **From Chapter 28-**_

 _You undeniably lucky old duffer_ _,_ _Elsie!_ _She thinks to herself._

 _"Happy, Elsie?"_

 _"Mmm...Absolutely, my love" she_ _purrs_ _languidly. "You?" she asks back, as she somehow manages to move her leaden legs to hook the eiderdown between her toes and drag it up the bed until she can reach it to then toss it over them both._

 _"Mmm…Hmm." He mumbles before releasing a large, contented yawn._

 _"Roll over this way a bit, Love- or you will get cold- the sheets are damp."_

 _"Hmm…" He rolls and replies sleepily, "you'll never hear any complaints from me regarding such a lovely circumstance that brings me back into your arms." It took all the energy he had left just to string what he imagines are somewhat eloquent words together… he is not even_ _entirely_ _sure it actually made any sense._ _It does not matter_ _, he figures as he yawns again. His last vision is of Elsie shuffling closer to him and wrapping the blankets lovingly around his shoulders as she settles comfortably-sated and sleepy-into his embrace. The last muffled sound he hears is her sweet admonishment to him-_

 _"Quiet, you."_

 _Following her directive, he sleeps with the warm scent of clean soap from Elsie's hair feathering near his face, and with the heavenly musk of their lovemaking rising from their skin and marking a new memory in his subconscious mind of their beautiful and incredibly fortunate life together._

 ** _CECECECECE_**

"Huh!- Ow!"

"Augh!"

In the grey light of the pre-dawn hour, Elsie wakes with a start as she finally rolls away from Charles' and the skin across her breasts rasps as it roughly tears away from his belly and chest. The hot sheen of their passionate lovemaking the night before having stuck them together as sated sleep had claimed them both from within their final embrace.

Charles continues to gruffle and moan but is now quite awake himself.

"Urrrgh…" he groans deeply, his throat parched and voice scratchy with sleep and from the fervent crying out of his love for Elsie not so many hours before. "Ugh… I feel like I have swallowed a hay bale."

"Charming." Elsie huffs back good-naturedly. "Although I can't say that your breath would actually smell much better even if you had done, Love!" she snuffs out, rubbing a tentative hand across the sensitive skin of her sore and reddened chest.

"Grmph … Why thank you, dear wife." He rumbles out. "You know, if I weren't so completely enamoured of you and determined to behave in a _somewhat_ gentlemanly manner …Ouch! … _And_ if my arm weren't in utter agony right now- Ffff" He sucks air sharply through his front teeth and continues haltingly, "Arr...I might be inclined to cast similar dispersions upon you, my love. Ooph." Elsie chuckles lightly at him as he continues to groan like a bear finally roused out of hibernation, "Uugh…But do remind me, Mrs Carson, to never again have a full dinner with wines and not brush my teeth before bed again."

With a concerted effort, Elsie lifts her head from the top of his arm where it has been resting for the last six or so blissful hours as she answers, "Sounds reasonable." Elsie clicks her dry tongue somewhat noisily about her mouth and then smiles at him with foggy love, but with her eyes clouded with quite some concern for him. "Sorry about your arm, Love."

"Ummph."

"Hmm… Anyway, Mr Carson, your current, less than lovely state is more than forgiven based on your most recent behaviours– _aand_ so long as you remind me of similar night time routines when required."

"Ugh," He groans once more. "Els, it is far too early to be negotiating the full terms of our marriage just yet I feel. Gah!…I need water. What time is it anyway?

"Agreed- much too early, Love. The sun's not even up yet." Elsie releases a long sigh. "Old habits die hard for us it seems. Ooo…But I didn't realise the aftermath of lovemaking could be such a… urk… sticky and painful affair." She rubs at the red marks her skin has left on his chest too. "Hmmm… But…I would that say it was all worth it, would you not, Mr Carson?" she asks rhetorically as she traces a neatly trimmed fingernail down the side of his belly and grins towards him.

Even so, and despite her contented state, Elsie does not yet want to admit it to Charles that her legs and other previously underutilised muscles are proving to be quite sore from their recent exertions. Elsie paws uselessly at her dishevelled hair, then intertwines her fingers with Charles's through the back of his hand as he reaches up with his good arm to lovingly brush some fuzzy strands out of the corner of her mouth and place them behind her ear.

"They do say that the darkest hour is right before the dawn, my love." he rumbles out softly, just enjoying gazing at wife and the fact that he had such pleasure in being responsible for her current love-mussed state. His lower back tingles with energy at the thought of it.

He continues to caress her cheek and down to her pearl necklace with his thumb pad reminding Elsie with a start that she should have remembered to remove such a precious gift before falling asleep last night. Her fingers grasp around his thumb to check that the piece did not break. Luckily, she and Charles had rested so solidly and with minimal movement all night long that it was not at much risk of becoming broken in her sleep.

"Hmm…But you are right, my love, being with you like this is all very _much_ worth some small discomforts." His shining eyes smile proudly and contentedly at her, despite the sharp tingling of pins and needles in his deadened arm as the blood races back through his capillaries. "I really do need to get up and see to my teeth, though."

"Hmm… Likewise… and then we might be able to catch a little more sleep before breakfast is due."

As Elsie pushes herself to the side of the bed, she thinks she sees some sort of knowing light cross Charles' eyes at this last statement. But, she needs to concentrate fully on rising with some semblance of grace and coordination that she is still not entirely sure her current naked state and strained joints and muscles can yet afford her. Charles' hand trails down her spine, and he feathers his fingers lightly over her hip before she moves away from him with much more agility than she thought she would manage. _Not so out of shape, after all,_ she thinks happily.

Charles hums appreciatively at her swaying, voluptuous hips as she moves across the room. _Oh, today is going to be a_ _very_ _good day!_ Charles thinks lasciviously as her watches her disappear through her dressing room door.

oOoOoOoOo

Charles flops back into the pillows and sighs loudly and happily as his glazed eyes flicker over the decorative plaster moulding on the ceiling above him. The grey light of the slowly brightening day causes the bumps and recesses of the design to play optical tricks with his fuzzy mind. The effect is meditative, and he spends more time lying in bed than he had intended to as he tries to discern the features of the pattern. As his eyes slowly focus and refocus to bring the motifs on the ceiling into sharper relief, his mind works simultaneously through the play of patterns of light and shade, the movement and the stillness, that form the shape of his newly rendered life with Elsie.

Some features of his new life are difficult to pin down to a specific image- they are still blurry and dreamlike- flitting too close to be able to discern a definite shape to them before they pull away and out of reach so that he cannot grasp any clear meaning from them. He wonders if these notions will ever return and let him know them better. He hopes so. He senses they might be good dreams to live with. But then in other floating flashes, his mind is able to hold onto aspects of this new life more firmly. They appear before him with a sharpness that is no less astounding for the fact that they are also homely and comforting and yet somehow still profoundly gratifying to him. He finds surprising and deep enjoyment in the carving and display of these new patterns of existence onto his being.

For Charles finds that, despite having already lived a lifetime where his very nature has been focused on propriety and refined appearances, he can now most happily accept and, indeed, absolutely loves the fact that Elsie is so comfortable moving around in front of him fully naked. He is proud that she feels so natural and safe with him, for it gives him the added confidence he needs to be able to do the same thing around her. And such a wonderful reclaimed liberty it all is too! - After so many long years of being carefully and discreetly covered when using shared living and bathing quarters with other men. The last time he swanned around completely naked in front of anyone (and certainly _never_ in front of anyone of the 'fairer' sex), must have been when he was a young lad, and he and the other young grooms and stable hands on the estate would sometimes cool down in the creek behind the coach house after a long hot day of work.

What is more, Charles absolutely adores how shamelessly lustful Elsie is when she loves him. He is helpless to prevent the light smile that has been playing at the corners of his mouth all this time from broadening into an overwhelmingly foolish grin as he visualises flashes of her movements above him last night. It is just so wonderful to not have to spend precious moments of their lovemaking time having to reassure her of how lovely and alluring she is. Not that he seems to be able to stop himself from complimenting her as a matter of course anyway. But, that it is more for the sake of the poetry she inspires in him, than it is a case of being a necessity to bolster her own beliefs about herself anymore, nor is it required to add anything to Elsie's intrinsic worth. Charles has always seen and known Elsie to be a beautifully strong and confident woman in all aspects of her life, and he does not want her to feel or behave in any other way during their intimate time together. He is so very glad that all of the fears she had in this regard on the lead up to their wedding have been put to rest so succinctly. It is no great surprise, he realises, for she has always taken most things in her stride quite easily. And, thankfully, they are now completely free to share and enjoy each other fully. Charles could not be happier.

But apart from inspiring intense pleasure in his own body and mind, having physical contact with Elsie's body is now proving to be a genuine comfort to Charles. For him, it is like being in full agreement with her again, and of course, that has always made him feel more at ease in this world full of change. And life could not have changed for Charles more decidedly than it has done in the last forty-eight hours! Living so closely with Elsie now makes Charles feel strong and vigorous enough of mind and body, and heart, to handle whatever life has in store for them. He wonders if she has any idea how she allays so many of his own fears now that they are sharing their lives in this new and very demonstrative way.

He muses on how he finds all of Elsie so utterly delightful and how he cannot seem to stop himself from reaching out to touch her all the time. It is almost as if he needs to confirm her existence in his life all over again- that it is not all just a guttering candle-like dream that will extinguish into a spiralling wisp of dissipating grey before it has had a chance to shine fully and make itself properly known to him. His whole being seems to ripple with new energy every time he is in contact with her- whether it is through the new freedom he has to cover her hand with his own as he escorts her on his arm, or the more intimate caresses to her skin that he feels compelled to use just to let her know that he will miss her as she moves away from him, even if it is only for the shortest of times. Charles never realised that he could be such a tactile person until these last two days, for so much of his adult life has been defined by restraining his actions and not actually touching anyone unduly. He feels so absolutely alive and fulfilled when he can caress Elsie's skin and can see that she revels in their new found intimacy too- the open display of their long held regard for one another. It is as if every contact they have, whether private and deeply intimate, or in public and quite chastely, makes this whole dream more _real_ for him. It steadies him. She is his touchstone. He loves to feel her ever solid presence in his life in this brand new way.

Indeed, it is so much more than just trying to make up for lost time- or the missed moments when they might have touched in the past, Charles believes- even though he does currently house an almost insatiable need to make love with Elsie in their every waking moment. And, if he had the energy of a much younger man, he is fairly certain that he would be doing just that! However, Charles does realise that this feeling of loving and lustful need, this dream, may wane a little, especially as their day to day concerns and work routines return to them at the Abbey. But, he senses that there is still so much more to it all than that- that there are other pleasures, small and large, that they will touch upon together. For now, it is almost as if touching Elsie is a new language that he can use with her- and they both seem to have learnt its cadences so easily. _If only all things learnt in life could be this rapidly attained and assimilated into what has existed before_ , he thinks. But through touch, it does seem to Charles that he now has far more freedom and agency in the world at large that only new knowledge can truly afford a person.

And so now, as the shapings of the plasterwork above his head hold a clearer pattern before his eyes as the light of the morning filters more sharply around the edges of the room, Charles envisions with quite some clarity the ways in which he will be able to show Elsie his affection more readily when they are together in their rooms at the Abbey, and later in their little cottage- retired and free to use their time much more as they please. Daydreams run through his head of how he might continually tell Elsie of his love through this new language of touch that they share, and not necessarily always in the highly charged manner that they have done in these last two days together.

He imagines walking into their cosy shared parlour of a winter's night and seeing Elsie snuggled on their settee in her nightwear, with her legs tucked under her as she reads by the lamplight, and with the firelight affording her smooth skin a lovely flickering and blushed glow. He looks forward to how, on top of still being able to share an evening sherry with her, as they have done so many times together over the years, he will now be able to drop a light kiss onto her delightfully soft hair as he skirts around back of her chair. And then, he will nuzzle freely near her ears after he has set the tray down on their little table and seated himself beside her- maybe making her hum happily to him. Although he imagines that Elsie may just as likely swat him away with her novel if he has interrupted her too much. He smirks happily to himself at the idea of having to work a little harder to bring Elsie undone in his arms with his tender ministrations.

Or, he envisions Elsie in their little garden as he tends to and trims some of (what he hopes will be) their prize winning roses for their table. And maybe Elsie will be hanging out linens in the crisp and bright spring air- working with the breeze to flick the corners of the sheets with a sharp and expert snap as she sets them tautly in place across the line- positioning the pegs to minimise any markings and ensuring the ease of using a smoothing iron on them later- if indeed, any will be needed at all- for, knowing her skills, often they will not require it. ' _A stitch in time saves nine.'_ That must be part of it, Charles muses- _But,… perhaps that is why the maid was dashing away with the smoothing iron in the first place- to go and hide it in the hopes of never having to use it again!_ Charles mind leaps upon this flippant reasoning with quite some glee.

But really, Charles has always loved the precision with which Elsie has achieved this mundane task- for he has seen her do so at the Abbey on countless occasions when she has been overseeing the new washer-girls' training, or whenever the laundry has just needed an extra set of hands. _There is right and quiet pride in doing a simple job so well,_ Charles believes. _But really, at its heart,_ _there is just great beauty in the motion- in attending to the ordinary, in attending to the unnoticed and unthought-of things with such discreet focus_. And it matches his own fastidious approach to certain, seemingly mindless, tasks- like seeing to the scratches on some silverware that are generally invisible to all others' eyes. To Charles, it truly speaks of Elsie's heart- her scrupulous care for the humble and the small, the modest and the hidden things. Her actions speak to Charles of Elsie's ability to pre-empt later difficulties, and so she acts upon the notion that smoothing out certain things in advance can prevent the development of any nasty wrinkles in the atmosphere later. And, for the most part, and insofar as other people and events can ever be relied upon to behave in the ways you might expect, Elsie has succeeded from day to day.

But unlike at the Abbey, in Charles's imaginings of their time in their little backyard, Elsie only attends to one small set of their own newly cleaned and immaculately crisp linens. And he knows he will feel silly pride about the circumstances that will have required their laundering on that day in the first place. And it is his fancy that Elsie's hair will not be quite as neat as it always is at the Abbey- that maybe it will be held only in a loose and simply caught up chignon- for they will have had no grand intentions of being seen by anyone that day within the village or on the estate… Or maybe, Charles thinks, it will be just a braid, like at night time- perhaps even the very same one from the night before - hanging long down her elegantly flexing back as she stretches up to place the sheets on the line… and wisps of her hair will float loose around he face in the breeze that will also be fluttering about her skirt, making it catch against her elongated calves. _Oh Lord!_ _Steady Charles. Breathe, old boy…_

But Charles does wonder at how he might be able to surreptitiously approach Elsie if such a vision were to become a reality before his very eyes at their cosy little cottage. He imagines how he might slyly sneak up to her through the fluttering rows of linens. For, it is true that he can sometimes still manage to approach her unheeded at the Abbey when he glides silently into a room she is working in, and she has not been expecting him there. And so, it seems likely that from in amongst the flurry of linens he will be able to surprise Elsie. Perhaps he will be able to make Elsie gasp out loud and giggle in that lovely, youthful and pretty way she has- _almost girlish it is_ \- that laughter that fill his heart with pure joy and that he has been lucky enough to see so often over these last days with her. He imagines silently and quickly grasping Elsie from behind, maybe flicking his gardening gloves off at the last moment, before he folds his arms all the way around her waist and then he will fondle at her soft belly and beautiful hips that will have driven him mad with delight just hours before on same sheets she is diligently trying to smooth out- only for them to be rumpled anew, and that Elsie will grumble lightly about having to cycle through her miniature linen rota for their little home so quickly again. A small huff of gleeful laughter actually escapes Charles lips now at all of his roguish thoughts. And finally, Charles thinks, when he has her properly caught up in his arms, he will brush feather-light kisses up and down Elsie's neckline and onto her shoulder- pushing under the loosened collar of her house blouse, making her moan and shiver with delight.

Charles' mouth quirks up again as he realises that Elsie would probably tut and roll her eyes if she could hear all of his sentimental musings right now. _No matter, it is a lovely dream- it is the very best of dreams- and surely not too far-fetched as to be a possibility in a not too distant reality,_ Charles thinks.

But mostly, Charles knows, with quite some certainty, that he will find himself brushing his fingertips to some part of Elsie- over her clothing or onto patches of her bare skin- her wrist, the back of her hand, the skin just below her hairline at the back of her neck- every time he enters a room she is frequenting, just to alert her to his presence. And, despite her generally being quite attuned to his silent comings and goings after all of these years working side by side, he wants to be able to let her know, through this added desire of his to touch and caress her, that she is the most important thing in his mind and heart at that very moment- and in every moment really. He does not want her to ever doubt his love for her. He does not ever want to be so distracted from her that he will not think to alert her of his place by her side in this way. He wants these small physical affections to remind her of his constancy, just as much as her contact with him is, and will always be his own North Star. He feels deep contentment that he can now display his love in this new language between them- to connect this way- and only with her – and Charles just hopes that it will not all just irritate her too much in the long term!

As Charles imagines these small and wordless pleasures that may mark the rest of his days upon this earth, he continues smiling up at the intricate mouldings on the ceiling from atop their love-rumpled sheets, and he knows- _he knows-_ that he is most certainly the happiest and luckiest of men.

oOoOoOoOo

Charles finally shuffles over to the bedside and pushes himself up- a little stiff-backed. He rises slowly and wanders, warmly naked, to his own bathroom to find some much-needed refreshment. Having always shaved twice a day for work, Charles is adept at wielding his cut-throat razor with quite some speed, so he takes a moment time to quickly ensure his and Elsie's ongoing comfort for the day. As he does so, his thoughts turn to how unbelievably blessed he feels to have this wonderful woman sharing her life, and all of herself so freely and closely with him and he feels strongly driven by his want to be near Elsie once again. He decides to pull on one of the hotel's fluffy, white and oversized towelling bathrobes and loosely secures the ties it about his waist- _It is rather luxurious. I may have to invest in one for Elsie_ \- before he pads lightly across the apartment to Elsie's side of the suite, his desperately sort-after toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth.

In Elsie's dressing room once more, he stops and leans against the jamb of her open bathroom door, slowly continuing his tooth-brushing routine around the growing and loving smile that seems to be permanently gracing his lips this morning. He silently enjoys the sight of Elsie standing on a towel near her sink to bathe her skin with a cloth. She has wound her hair up and loosely tied it in a knot with its own length to keep it off her shoulders. He never dreamed he would see anything like it on her. _Carefree_. _So very_ _lovely._ But Charles will not brush his fingertips to her just yet, as tempting as that notion is- for she has already acknowledged his presence via their reflections in the looking glass, exchanging a loving smile with him that shines all the way to her sparkling eyes.

"Oo are amabsolude vibion, my lub, jubst ike a paimting." he mumbles out around his foaming toothbrush.

"Excuse me?!" Elsie gives him a slightly perplexed look and a cheeky smile as she continues wiping the warm cloth over her calf as her foot rests elegantly on the edge of the bath.

 _And she has such lovely delicate arches – like a dancer's,_ Charles realises for the first time.

"Where is my Mr Carson and what have you done with him?" She rolls out in her bright and lilting brogue. "For it appears I may have been labouring under the misapprehension that I recently married a rather upright and distinguished English butler with an air of good manners and refinement about him." Her smile broadens somewhat wickedly as she takes in the sight of him more thoroughly, and relishes the thought of the loving jab she is about to deliver him. "But he seems to have been replaced by a rather cuddly and ruffled looking silver-haired, polar bear-type creature who lounges in doorways ogling naked women and speaking with his mouth full!"

Charles grins and almost chokes on the foam of his toothpowder as he laughs at Elsie's clever wit. Luckily he makes it in one stride to the basin in time to spit and rinse. He most pointedly plonks his toothbrush in the glass on the vanity next to Elsie's as he turns and reaches towards her, grazing his fingertips over the base of her back and feeling the fullness of her hips as she bends forward even further. Elsie chuckles lightly with him, as she sees to the cleanliness of that delightfully pale foot resting up on the edge of the bath.

 _Just like a painting-_ his mind repeats- _Like a Gainsborough_. And in a flash, he knows that his dream of picnicking with Elsie and lying with his head in her lap while they read poetry to one another in the dappled light of afternoon will most likely come true on this week away with her. He is overjoyed at the thought of it- courting her in reverse- as is their way it seems. And that particular notion just couples so wonderfully with the classically beautiful sight she now presents him with.

"I will have you know, pretty Elspeth, that this well-loved and somewhat rumpled 'polar bear' as you so indelicately put it, happens to retain at least some of Carson's positive attributes," Charles bends to nuzzle at the back of her neck, making Elsie hum appreciatively. "Hmm…," he concurs as he smiles against her skin, "in that he only ever ogles _one_ particular, and eminently beautiful naked wom _a_ n, whom he is lucky enough to call his lovely lady-wife. She is a most singular work of art." And with that, he guides her upright and turns her towards him to fully capture her lips in a fresh mint and warm clove flavoured kiss.

"Mmm… _Wife-of-mine"_ he mumbles against her lips, _almost_ possessively. He gives her another peck on the lips then looks hungrily into her eyes and speaks in low and heartfelt tones to her. "I love that you feel no need to cover yourself up in front of me Elsie-love," his voice is husky as he continues with the utmost honesty, "I love how confident you are, Mrs Carson- Elsie-Elspeth-Els- Mrs Hughes…every one of you- every version of the woman I am still learning new things about every day- every single facet," he pauses to kiss her, "mmm… and part of you." He sighs out heavily into the crook of her neck and then murmurs against her sweet and fresh smelling skin, "I love your passion and your confidence. I always have. Did you know that?- Even when it has sometimes vexed me thoroughly." Charles continues to brush kisses up to her ear, making her moan and stretch her neck to allow him greater access before she sighs disappointedly when he moves away to give her another quick peck on the lips. Then he finishes light-heartedly, " _And_ , if I could have things all my way, pretty Elspeth, you would never wear another stitch of clothing ever again when we are all alone in our private little cottage- someday soon," kissing her deeply once more.

"Well now," she gasps out a little breathlessly as they break away. "Carson, Mr Carson, _husband-o'-mine,_ Charles, … _a chagair_ " she continues, rolling his names out lovingly across her tongue, " … _all_ of you- up to and including Mr Archimedes!... It just so happens that I _do_ feel very comfortable in my own skin when I am around you." She continues more seriously, "And your discerning and appreciative eye, as you would put it, really does mean an awful lot to me, you know _that_ , don't you Charles?" Elsie then snakes her arms around his fluffy cotton covered belly to pull him even closer to her as she looks up into his glowing face. "Hmm…my man… I feel like… well… I am not quite sure what it is I feel like, really. … I guess I feel as if I… I do not have to be so 'trussed-up' and 'in-line' anymore- not when we are together like this, a chagair. It is a wonderfully freeing feeling, don't you think?" Elsie quirks a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Mmm-Hmm…I was only just considering the fact that I have not wandered about so freely since I was a lad swimming in the creek after working in the stables all day. I am rather pleased I get to do this sort of thing again before my time is up… and that it is with you alone, my love."

"Well, it not a liberty I have ever had, Love. It is completely new to me, I must say. I am afraid my youthful freedom was probably tempered, to a far greater degree than yours, by my feminine status … and by the Kirk's teachings of course. Gosh, even before I carried my chatelaine, I always waited until all the other girls of whichever house I worked at were in bed before I ventured to bathe more privately. It was a relief when I was finally assured of having the bathroom to myself, and I controlled _all_ the housekeeping keys at the Abbey."

"Well then, it is no wonder you carried some fears about all these things before we married! I could never have guessed at such things, Elsie…. But… well…did you never spy yourself fully in a looking glass, my love? Surely you would have seen _some_ positive attributes in such a way."

"Well… maybe I would have when I was younger- but really, I have rarely had access to a full-length mirror in such a way all my life… and then after a certain age, and with no recourse to have anyone notice me in such a way…and what with me only getting older and older… I guess I just sort of…stopped looking… and especially after my surgery… it just seemed to be a painful exercise that I saw no point in putting myself through… so I stopped seeing, I guess."

"That makes me very sad for you Elsie-love, for you have always deserved to feel yourself to be the beauty that you are. BUT- true to form, my darling," he adds more brightly, "you seem to have taken these new conditions all in your stride quite easily, _and_ ," he continues in a slower and more seductive tone, "I for one am mightily glad that I played a small part in opening your eyes to yourself- to the beautiful truth of you- and I will be eternally grateful for the fact that you have adapted to all of this freedom so readily, my dearest love." Charles intersperses his next words with kisses that run along Elsie well-defined collarbones and make her moan into his ear again. "…very…very…glad…indeed…Mrs…Elsie…Hughes." _Delightful!_ He thinks dizzily as he too releases a longing moan, against her supple neck.

" … Ooo… Mr Carson" She shivers happily as she squeezes him more tightly in her arms and Charles continues lavishing her décolletage with hot kisses. "And I… Mmm…yes- right there Charles…must say… hah!... that _I_ am _very_ glad you-hoo. Oh! …-have specified the times and places-aah, mmm…you w-isssh to see me-hee!...oh yes _ss_!... thus ahh- attired. Oh God, Charles!" she pulls his head up to plunder his mouth with her own, moaning hotly over his sinuously moving tongue. But all too soon she feels she just has to push him away. He looks bereft. _Oh!- But, he will keep…_ , she thinks with happy fire in her chest and belly. _But he really is far too distracting!_ –for Elsie has not quite finished bathing yet. "My gosh, Charles!" she pants out heavily. "Imagine if you insisted upon such a state of undress at any time we might be alone at the Abbey- what with all the interruptions we are accustomed to there!"

"And we'd neither of us ever get any work done, to be sure." he somehow stutters out after that amazing kiss she just graced him with has left him unsteady and breathless. "Besides," he growls out with darkened lust still flashing in his eyes, "I do _not_ intend to share you when you are in this state, nor will I share any of the particular pleasures that tend to accompany it with anyone else at all- _ever_. You will find that I am a little possessive of you in this regard, Mrs Carson. And I am selfish too- for I am not one to share my own affections so widely, either. I do hope that you realised that when you married me, Elsie?"

"You are far from a selfish man, Charles. In fact, you are the most giving man I could hope for. But I too do _not_ intend to share you with anyone else. Have I not already claimed you as _MY man?"_

"I want nothing more than to always be _your man_ , lovely Elspeth," Charles states seriously as he kisses her lips once more.

"Well then, we are in complete agreement, for it is exactly how I would have it too, my dear Mr Carson- to be your woman." She traces her fingernail along his delightfully smooth, freshly shaven jawline and speaks huskily into the 'v' of his exposed chest. "Mmm…Well,… at least to be the woman that I can be when I am alone with you, and that only you will ever know me to be. _So_ ," she states firmly as she looks up brightly into his eyes, "I believe I can live with your slightly possessive bent in this regard- Agreed?"

"Oh yes please, Mrs Carson," he groans out as he holds her ever closer "God, how I love you, Elsie," he mumbles as he bends and nuzzles into her neck again.

"Hmm…" she hums happily as she turns his face to hers and kisses him firmly on the lips, and then on the tip of his nose before she turns away to lift her other leg to the edge of the bath to complete her ablutions.

As she moves to rinse out her washcloth in the basin, she sees the remains of Charles' foamy spittle floating on top of her soapy water. "Urr! Well, it is certainly the truth that this large grumbly polar bear-man I have married _is_ a rather uncouth creature who still requires a little house training!" She releases the plug and proceeds to refill the sink with fresh warm water.

"Uncouth!" Charles squeaks out in an unusually high key for him "Uncouth! I will have you know that I pride myself on being the very epitome of couthness."

Elsie scoffs at him, "Are you sure 'couthness' is even a word, Charles!" and she cannot help but chuckle at his display of mock offence. "But, if I am to be completely honest, I _am_ rather sweet on this new _husband-'o-mine_ , and based on your recent assertions, I do believe that you, _Sir_ , are once more decidedly overdressed in comparison to me. So come now, Mr Carson," she states firmly as she pulls him back towards her by the tie of his bathrobe, "let's get you freshened up, hmm?" Then she walks her fingers up through the small patch of chest hair she can access and presses her index finger into the cleft of his chin. _How did this small gesture become my new favourite pass-time_ , she wonders as her free hand unties the knot at his waist and she speaks lustfully to him, "For I have _plans_ for you this fine morning before we must leave, Mr Carson."

Charles groans audibly "Ooh…yes pleas _se,_ Mrs Carson." As Elsie's hands slide inside his robe and move to trace lines on his lower back and then up and down the backs of his thighs. He audibly swallows the lump that has form in his throat, and he feels parched for the life-giving water of her love once more. "Shall…shall I just reach for the cloth then, Mrs Carson?" he manages to stumble out as she begins to overwhelm his senses with the feather-light movement of her fingernails over his lower spine and buttocks- actions that he had never visualised happening between them- not even in his sweetest dreams of her with him. _How remiss of me! Why could I not have imagined this wonderful state of affairs?_ He is beginning to feel a little light-headed with it all.

"Och noh, thank you, Mr Carson." He takes in a sharp breath at the sound of her brogue thickening to that level. It is round and lush and oh, so _sensuous_ and now he is most decidedly feeling light-headed. "I believe this is something I have to do for myself" Elsie states brightly as she pushes his robe off his shoulders and bundles it up a little to toss onto the free-standing towel warming rack that graces her bathroom. As she turns back to him, he grasps tightly to one of her wrists.

"Please don't _ever_ say that again, Elsie," He whispers thickly to her, and his eyes show a sting of pain that he just cannot contain, and he will not hide it from her either- even in this moment filled with playful desire. Her eyes flicker and fill with uncertainty and instant tears of naked vulnerability, not yet realising what she has said that could possibly have upset him so quickly. He lifts the hand he clutched onto as he crashed out of their sensuous dream-life and into the shocking reality of the painful memories he had thought had been laid to rest already. He rests her palm over his cheek, leaning his head into it as his other hand squeezes firmly to her shoulder. "Please, Elsie," he implores her with his sad and fearful eyes drilling into hers, "do not ever feel you must do _anything_ on your own again. I am here." And as his hand slides off her shoulder to brush over the scar on her right breast she finally remembers and understands what she has said. Charles' voice cracks when he sees the pained recognition in her eyes. "I…I was so frightened that I would never see you again, Elsie-love, and I was so _very_ scared for you. I wanted so very much to be there for you, and to hold you through that time- once I knew that you were so ill- ….even …even though I knew that it could never have been my place to do so with such a private matter back then. But,… please know that I wanted to hold you _so very much_ back then, a chagair,… and that I do not _ever_ want to be shut out and left on the outside like that again." His eyes are swimming with the memories of the pain of that time. He cannot seem to stop it all as he turns his face into her hand and kisses deeply into her palm. "I _want_ to feel these things for you, Els- with you. I do. All of it. And it scares me sometimes- just how much there is- how big it all is …but…but… we are in this together, my Elsie. Please don't ever feel you need to protect me from your pain. Promise me." A single line of his tears trickles out from under her palm and fall coldly upon his chest.

"Oh Charles," Elsie whispers through the lump that has formed in her throat. "I am sorry I hurt you so." She had no idea he still harboured so much pain from that time. "But, a chagair, I _have_ already promised you." And she curls the hand on his cheek into a light fist so that she may brush her shiny wedding band across his grief thickened lips. Charles closes his eyes and two more tears press out from beneath his lids to fall onto the backs of her fingers as he presses his lips to their gilded promise- the only piece of clothing they currently hold between their naked bodies. "Charles, my love, I knew you wanted to help me then.… I _did_ know. And it meant the _world_ to me. And when I heard you singing for me after I knew my results… A Graidh, it…it was like my heart could finally start beating again after all of those grey months of waiting… waiting for some sort of release back into this world or onto the next. I hated not knowing."

"You…you heard me singing, Els?"

"Yes, a chagair. And it was bright and beautiful and happy, and I could not contain my smile. And I _so_ wanted to throw my arms around your neck right then and there and just laugh and cry all at once with you, and to kiss you on the cheek for being such a darling man and my friend who cared so very much for me. And don't even _think_ that I won't be doing just that _right_ now."

And so she does. Quite thoroughly- until even Charles is laughing and crying all at once as he lifts her small frame from the ground and into a massive bear-hug. But mostly, they just dissolve into joyful laughter and increasingly deeply shared kisses in gratitude to the world and each other for the simple fact that they are alive and together fully for each other at last.

When finally Charles releases Elsie, and she has her feet firmly planted back on the bath mat, he rests his forehead against hers and sighs out long and shuddering breath.

"I don't know Elsie, you must think that you have married the most terribly sentimental and blubbering old fool. But I just cannot seem to contain anything that I feel for you at the moment- every thought and sensation and memory – they all just seem to overwhelm me…and … and they just burst out of me in the most undignified manner and at the most unexpected and inopportune moments…and then you keep having to dry my eyes and buck me up again it seems."

"Charles." She says it quietly- like a solid tethering point on a pier- from whence she can guide him back into _them_ from inside the storm of himself. She caresses his damp cheeks. And Elsie realises that as much as she has needed Charles' appreciation and open praise to reflect back what she had long lost sight of, and to show her those things that she had never really seen within herself in the first place with regards to her physical life and sexual confidence; equally, she now needs to put to rest his lingering fears about his own emotional life and worth- to quash his terribly British reticence to claim fully his right to express the range of his feelings and to share them freely with her when he needs to.

"My love, I am so incredibly proud and humbled that I have a man in my life who feels things so very deeply. You have often shared so much of yourself with me, Charles, especially after I goaded you about Alice- and I do love you so for it. I do. And in comparison, I must appear somewhat of a hypocrite, for I have kept far too many secrets from you sometimes. I have not been nearly so open with you as I could have been… and, I…I guess at times I _was_ trying to protect your feelings, but if I am truthful, I was generally making a grave mistake every time that I did shut you out- like with Anna and Green… My! How we fought then!… Another loathsome time in all our lives…Was it not?" she asks rhetorically. "But Charles-love, I really do feel so very proud and …and…content… I think that is what it is…content-oddly enough-… that I hold your confidence and that you feel so safe to be this way with me now- tears and all. So please do not apologise for it, anymore, Charles-love, for I want you to share your pain with me too, you should know that- just like Anteros. Remember?"

Charles just nods lightly against her head with his eyes closed as he focuses on her hands drifting gently over his face.

"Charles-love, because of your life's work, much more so than mine, and because of you being such a quintessentially British man too, I guess,… it has all kept you 'trussed-up' emotionally, so to speak. But, I do not want you to always be ashamed after you have shared your fears or any of your grief and tears with me- nor any of your other feelings that may rise up for you- no more than you want me to be ashamed of bathing openly in front of you… or of holding lengthy conversations in the bathroom stark naked with you, for that matter!"

Charles chuckles at this state of affairs and squeezes her ever more tightly about the waist.

"But Charles, this is important…" And she sighs out at the fact that she has to admit to this flaw of hers, but he deserves nothing less than her reciprocation of his complete honesty with her. "Love, I know I may have jabbed at you in the past for trying to take on the role of the poets…but I was wrong to do so. I say things sometimes, you see- flippant things in passing- when I walk in on you during work- all in a hurry- and I just catch snippets of things and sometimes I just don't know the full story, and I throw out glib words that may not respect who you are and what you are trying to deal with. Please forgive me- for I do so want you to always find the words for what you feel- just as you did now. I _do_ want to hear you, my man…"

"There is nothing to forgive, Els. I don't mind so much your pointed jabs and you ribbing me sometimes- it is just your sharp mind sparking- which is another part of Elsie that I know and love- and besides, it does stop me from taking myself too, too seriously."

"My love," Elsie whispers as they share another slow and tender kiss. "But you know Charles, you really do have a very lovely way with words- you should know that- no matter how much I have teased you about it… And, in fact…" She finishes a little sheepishly, "…in my head these last days, I have actually started to refer to you as my 'poet-lover'."

Charles' eyes flicker in some surprise at her and then his mouth quirks into that adorable and boyishly proud closed-mouthed smile that quirks across his cheeks and reaches right to his eyes- and that Elsie so very much loves to see.

"…And Charles, I just adore how you feel and show and say what is in your heart with me now. Hmm…besides which… I… I just love your voice, my man… it…it _does_ things to me that…that…" She sighs out a heady breath, "…well… surely you have grasped _exactly_ what it can do to me, my poet-lover," she watches as Charles' face opens up even further with ill-contained pride and joy. "… and…well!- Let us just say that I now have many _new_ reasons for asking you to join the choir and sing with me which that the church had best know nothing about. Cha _rr_ les- my man. ….Now. … Come. …" and she seems to sing out this last directive to him as a siren would call a sailor onto the rocks of an otherwise safe harbour. But with Elsie, she guides him only into her safety and warmth.

A wicked glimmer crosses Charles eyes as he finds himself wrapped up in the reality of his desire filled visions of Elsie and her beguiling tones once more. As Elsie takes him by the hand she still holds and moves him to stand more fully on the bath mat, an idea based on her desire for his voice and his touch has planted its seed within Charles' mind and he smiles slightly at the thought of it as Elsie wrings out the washcloth in the basin of fresh warm water. And Charles knows that he must tell Elsie of his other plans soon, but then she is placing the warm cloth against his tear-stained cheeks, and she lifts his hand to cover hers as she gently guides the cloth over his face.

"Together, a chagair. I am here." she says simply.

oOoOoOoOo

Elsie takes her time carefully cleaning Charles' skin, moving from his face to his neck and his broad shoulders that have carried so much of life and his grief so quietly and steadily over the years. She moves down over his chest and belly, and all the while, she dusts loving kisses across him in all the places where the thin film of warm water on his skin is prickling, almost making him itch, as it dries in the cool air of the bathroom they now share. She intermittently refreshes the towel throughout her quiet journey across his skin, his hand always locking over the backs of her fingers each time she returns to him. And so, what Elsie's had envisioned as her chance to drive Charles wild with wanton desire just moments before, has been transformed into something slow and reverent and poignantly beautiful for them both, as together they ensure that Charles feels cleansed of any shame he has felt for ever feeling life so strongly and letting it all show. He is in awe.

Once Elsie has cleaned down each of his arms, she moves them both to the sink to refresh the washcloth once more. She stands within the circle of his arms, her back pressed to his torso and he watches, silently mesmerised, as she holds his hands in hers and slowly and methodically tends to each them- as if before a healing baptismal font- first running the floating cloth over and between each finger, then turning his palms uppermost and using her thumbs to massage and trace over each of the major lines on his palms. And when, once more, Elsie sees the silvery scar on his flexor muscle from the glass he crushed when he fretted over her health her head tilts slightly to the side, and she blinks slowly to clear the pooling water from her eyes. Then, she places a kiss to her own thumb pad and presses it firmly into their memories before she interlaces her fingers through the backs of his own and squeezes her fingertips firmly into his palms- her nails biting ever so lightly into his flesh. Then she turns his palms uppermost once more and repeatedly lifts and trickles water from her own cupped hands into his open palms, washing clear the lingering traces of his pain from that time. The scars may well remain, but the wound is now properly stitched up and healing all the better for the pain of it having been shared with her. Charles draws a shuddering tear filled breath in from the morning warmth of Elsie's hair. _Such beauty-_ such as he has never known.

"Let's see to the rest of you now, Charles," she whispers to him as she guides him to turn his back to her. Elsie continues her steady and silent worship over his shoulders and back. Moving so slowly, Elsie feels she is able to see all sorts of wonderful secrets of her man revealed to her for the very first time. She lingers at a scar that cuts across his shoulder blade. It is obviously a very old one, for it looks to have been stretched thin over the years as he has grown in stature- almost as if he had to grow into in order to carry it well. It is delicate and shiny and smooth and baby-soft under her damp fingertips. She is surprised that she has not felt it yet when they have been together, for it is from what must have been a very deep, gouging injury. But then she sees some of the recent red crescents that her own fingernails have rent upon the skin of his back these last days, and she realises that she must have been rather too distracted to have noticed much else at all! Still, Elsie wants to know, so she quietly asks, "Charles-love, what happened here?"

"Hmm?" Charles slowly rouses himself from the trancelike state he had floated into under Elsie's tender attentions to his skin.

"This scar, Love." Elsie continues to trace a gentle fingertip back and forth over its length. "What is it from?"

"Oh, that… I'd almost forgotten I even had that. Umm…well, I must have been about seven or eight I think. I think I was distracted- probably gadding about and impatient to get to my favourite part of the day- feeding the horses some treats after I got back from morning school. I must have forgotten what my father was always harping on to me about- 'Dooant nip on lakin' ta close ta someone swingin' on eur pitchfork' - or words to that effect."

Elsie cannot hold back her laughter. She has never heard Charles drop into the broad Yorkshire accent he must have grown up around. It is completely incongruous to her.

"Good Lord, Charles! You are lucky I have spent so many years dealing with Yorkshire tradesmen, or I would never have understood a word you just said!- And I thought my accent used to be broad!"

"Well, I didn't keep speaking that way for much longer when I went to Ripon Grammar- or after I became a hall boy- not when I knew I would stay in service inside the Abbey in some form or another. I heard the ways the upper staff spoke, and I knew pretty quickly that I wouldn't get far if I always sounded like a stable hand."

"You must have been a serious and dedicated lad from a very young age then, Charles."

"Well, not so serious that I didn't lark about the stables so much that I ended up copping a decent wallop from a swinging pitchfork. Anyway, Els, I don't imagine you any less serious when you went into service so young."

"No, I guess not. But it is a wonder you weren't killed, you silly boy." And she kisses along the deep scar with mothering tenderness. "It could have gone straight through you, or been your head, … or you might have ended up with lock-jaw." *

"I guess I've never thought of it that way much. I do remember a clear moment of stillness, though- almost like I was hanging suspended in the air for a few heartbeats. It did throw me quite a ways across the barn. Must have been the shock I guess. And I recall Dad being livid with rage at me… Yes… Makes you shiver, though, doesn't it, Els?- to think how easy it is to lose all of life in just one instant, hmm?"

"Well… I would much prefer _not_ to think about you not being here, Charles, thank you very much." And she kisses once more to the gouge on his back before moving to clean the lower half of his body- now running the cloth more firmly over his muscular thighs and down to his calves. "And your Da was just scared for you Charles, you were all he had left after your Mam died, remember that, Love. Hmm… it is funny how we have changed ourselves though isn't it, Charles."

"I guess so... But I don't think it has been in a bad way at all, do you, Els?"

"No… I don't …and I guess at least these older things aren't wholly lost to us- they are just rarely put on show, that's all" And she chuckles lightly from her position behind him, and at the view it currently affords her. Elsie takes the liberty of placing a kiss onto Charles' lily-white bottom, taking him quite by surprise and making him gasp and then giggle- if it can really be said that Charles Carson is capable of producing such a sound. Then Elsie stands and wraps her arms around his belly from behind. "But I like that the sound of Yorkshire is still a part of you, a chagair- Ha!- perhaps you could sing me some bawdy tunes!" and she laughs out loud again as she thinks about it.

Charles just groans audibly, for he can feel Elsie's breasts pressed firmly against his back and her nipples moving over his skin as she giggles. He quickly turns from within her arms and uses his thickest home-born accent, "Cüm 'eear, lüsh waife-o'-mine," before he gives in again to the desire they both felt earlier, and he kisses her thoroughly, leaving them both breathless and staring at each other with lust-darkened glee. "We'ed best be abaht thy plans for dis mornin' yüng lass, if we arunt ta be interrupted by um pesky maid wi' eur breytfast trolley."

Elsie slaps him playfully on the chest.

"Och! Stop it, Charles, I am not sure I actually find your accent _that_ beguiling- you sound a little too much like Jos Tufton for my liking!"

"Urrk… Fair point, Lass."

"Besides," Elsie continues seductively as she moves her hand slowly down from his chest, tracing a single fingertip lower and lower and causing a shiver run across Charles' shoulders and around to his collarbones, "I haven't finished washing _quite_ all of you yet, Mr Carson."

"Well then, Mrs Carson," Charles breathes out shakily, "Perhaps you had best be about it."

And with that, he clasps her hand in his and turns her back to the basin with the now cold cloth and works with her to rinse and wring it out again. Then he steps back and pointedly relaxes his hands, bringing them to rest near his bare thighs, much as he would if he were actually sporting his full morning livery in the breakfast room at the Abbey. And to Elsie, he still somehow manages to look incredibly stately and dignified, despite his most obvious state of naked arousal. It makes her skin feel tingly all over and she gleefully takes this chance to unsettle him a little as she ducks down with surprising speed, her hair brushing quite by accident across his hardness as she moves to wipe over the top of his right foot, before slowing down quite markedly as she draws the warm cloth firmly up the front of his leg as she rises up in front of him, holding his gaze with something that can only be described as wicked-innocence gracing her clear eyes. Charles feels slightly dizzy as the blood drains from beneath his lust reddened ears and he feels the practised half-lock of his knees that normally holds him still and to attention at work beginning to weaken. A shuddering and a delighted sigh escapes his lips as Elsie's fingers swirl with the rapidly cooling cloth around to his inner thigh and then traces to one side of his body along the v-line of the muscles that runs from the top of his leg towards his hip bone. _Such a delightfully carved shaping,_ Elsie thinks. _So very masculine. Filled with promise._

Charles' eyes widen darkly as Elsie turns to refresh the cloth once more and he realises that she will trace a similarly tortuous path over his left leg, and he also finally registers that the cloth she is using has already followed those same paths, and so very much more, over her own sweet body. The vision is one of the most intimate and erotic things he has ever imagined.

As Elsie starts the slow, warm and wet path from his toes up to his thigh this time his knees actually do start to sway, and he needs to reach for her firm shoulder to steady himself. His grip perceptibly tightens as she plays beguilingly slowly up that angled path of his muscles towards his hip, and then back down through his thick curls to the top of his manhood. His breath is escaping him in short gasps and groans. Elsie plays her fingertips lightly through his soft hair and over the top of his arousal. Her delicate touch is in such sharp contrast to the pounding hardness he feels driven towards whenever he is under Elsie's loving command of his body. They are both aware of the visible beating of his heart, moving rapidly and strongly inside his deep chest as he pants faster and his head feels that it is swimming through ether.

"Els," he somehow manages to gasp out, "Hah…ah…" He gulps audibly. "Els,.. _pleasse…_ you need to finish so we can move this- if…if… oh God… you don't want… Wah! Ha-ah!…oh …ooh!…th-this to end with me in the hospital with my head cracked open from the tiles." He manages to rattle this last part out very quickly as he feverishly draws another gasping breath.

"Well then, Mr Ca _rr_ son," she teases him with her purposely thickened brogue, still running the backs of her smooth fingernails up and down his length and dropping her hand down every so often to cup him and then brush the rounded weight of him over the back of her hand, "I suggest you partake of your butler's prerogative and seat yourself before anyone else in the room does."

Charles almost keels over then and there as he imagines Elsie seated before him in this state.

But Elsie guides him in time to the small chair the hotel has set in the bathroom, which she first covers with a fluffy towel for him. He plonks down in a rather unceremonious fashion but keeps his enraptured eyes on her every sinuous movement.

Elsie returns once more to the sink to rinse the washcloth in the warm water. Elsie kicks the floor towel in front of Charles' chair as she returns to him. Her breasts hang full and freely at his eye level, and he licks over his lips in desperate anticipation of them coming closer to his wanting tongue. But he mewls out a slightly frustrated sound as he realises Elsie has other plans. He could reach out and grasp for her, he knows that, but there is something so very much more exciting about letting Elsie come to him in her own slow and special way right now. _Restraint… I can be quite good that! Use restraint, Charles old boy. Breathe…_. Charles' hands grip white-knuckled onto the edges of the chair, and his hip muscles are quivering as he desperately tries to hold himself in one place for her.

 _Oh dear God!_

She is leaning towards him, and her hair is tickling over his cheek as she whispers with hot and low breaths into his ear- "I've not ever had the pleasure of doing this before, my Charles. Please tell me how. Show me how." And there is no trace of embarrassment in her voice for her lack of experience, just an innate sense of confidence that Charles himself will find all of her actions completely acceptable and overwhelmingly seductive in this moment.

He gulps audibly and groans out against her collar bone as his head drops into the warmth of her shoulder and hair "Oh Els- _ssie…"_ He nips and licks along her collarbone and groans even lower as he is compelled to look up again into her searching eyes when she places the warm cloth over his length and then grasps his hand to place it on top of her own so that he may guide her.

"Show me, a chagair" she whispers again.

Charles shudders and somehow manages to still his fluttering hand as it clasps over hers. He slowly starts moving her hand with the warm cloth over himself. It all feels cool in comparison to the heat surging through him in this moment of divine cleansing. His breathing is growing ever more rapid, and he gasps as he takes her hand to gently rub beneath himself to ensure his cleanliness for her there. Blood has returned to burn red across his face, but shame is the last sensation that he feels as he recognises Elsie's own, almost squirming excitement at being able to touch and hold him in this way. _My wonderful wife!_

"El _ss.._ " he gulps out, "I…I…mn-not n-normally in this sort of a state w-when I d-do this m-myself."

"It does not hurt you, does it?" she asks with quiet and genuine concern.

"Oh no!… No…Oh!..." he stutters out as she takes a little more control and gently moves the cloth back to his ever hardening length before squeezing him a little more firmly in her loving grip, slowly gliding long strokes over him. "Augh.. F-far from it, Els… S-so so good-Els…But j-just be.. be careful near th-the end… Maybe without the cloth there- j-just with w-water f-from your … your ha! han! Ah!- f-fingers."

He finishes on a higher note as he shudders in anticipation at this thought and then he shakily controls her hand to pull back on his skin to show her what he means. He genuinely feels that he may pass out in light-headed bliss when he sees the look of care and understanding in Elsie's hungry eyes as she bites at her bottom lip before her tongue unconsciously flicks out to remoisten it. _Oh! Thank you, God! She really does love this too!... Just breathe, Charles…Breathe…_

Elsie slips away to freshen the washcloth and returns with a small amount of clear warm water scooped into her cupped hand so that she may tend to Charles's needs. Charles watches Elsie's every move with almost painful gratitude in his heart as she kneels before him on the bath rug to continue her devotions to him in the clear light of the warm summer morning.

And for her part, Elsie is completely fascinated by the striking beauty of her man. Continuing as he has shown her, Elsie delights once more in the elegant design of her man at his most natural and proudest. He appears as a wonderful and flowering and exotic fruit to her- smooth and silken to the touch as she draws him back like the freshly budded petals of a crocus- over all of that exceptional and full firmness- before he blossoms fully to reveal his deeply coloured and shining treasure beneath.

Charles growls out an almost panther-like low rumbling purr from deep within his pounding chest as Elsie carefully washes his most sensitive, lush and curved fullness- rolling and caressing him into the miniature pool she has formed in her cupped palm, before letting the remaining water drip over him like a slowing waterfall that vanishes into an engorged and misted stream- following the path of their earlier tears of pain and soaking slowly into the land beneath them. As Elsie's fine fingertips delicately swirl and eddy around him, Charles releases a long and shuddering sigh and his hands grip ever tighter to the edges of the chair. His mouth is agape and his head has lolled back onto the wall behind him. _So_ _very_ _wonderful!_

Elsie cups and rests Charles' pulsing life along her open palm as she lifts the cloth one last time to dab lightly at the sheen of water that remains upon this glorious fruit of his life and his love which is his offering to her- for her alone to enjoy with him.

"A chagair," she purrs in that seductively soft burr that drives him wild, "You are s _oh_ _verry_ lovely, my man." Her hot breath dries across him as she finally bends to partake of this fresh and divine bounty. She lavishes sultry kisses all over his length and draws him deeply into her loving mouth until he feels his whole self being immersed and he is bathing in her fulsome love for him. _Heaven! She loves me! She loves me!_

 _God! I adore him!_

And Elsie does adore him. Adores his silky, slippery and velvet lush hardness. Adores his every texture. His shape. His heat. His fullness. His sumptuous fragrance. His fervent sounds- the chanting of her name- his guttural groans and the high pitched snuffs of breath forced from his flared nostrils as he clutches with such quivering but solid strength to the chair so as to steady his powerful frame- his love for her so deeply rooted in the utmost care for her that he actually manages to restrain himself in this sultry and fevered moment. He strains against his primal instinct to thrust erratically towards her as his excitement builds and rises, thickening and surging wildly within their flourishing ardour. _So beautiful. So gloriously beautiful. Such cultivated restraint_ \- He holds. _Holds!_ Waits for her- _He actually waits!_ Allows her…follows her… trusts her- _He trusts me!_ – until the cleansing rain of their fervour rushes through him- fills him entirely and in a final burgeoning blush of lush and pure life every heavy fruitful feeling he houses bursts its skin and cascades forth in an unstoppable torrent that carves through and shapes their shared inner landscapes.

oOoOoOoOo

Conscious thought returns to Charles with the sudden intake of a gasping breath he had been holding as he had watched the loving joy on Elsie's face as she took him and blessed him with her selfless love.

Elsie kisses him silently and lovingly across his soft belly before she once more takes the washcloth and cleans what needs to be cleaned. Charles feels refreshed, yet not quite as he once was.

Renewed.

Purified.

For he is still the same man- but different.

Clearer. Freed. Better. Something more.

Fulfilled.

Grateful.

Content.

oOoOoOoOo

Elsie rises to bless him with a small kiss upon his forehead.

Charles arms hug around her waist and then he buries his head into the warmth and softness of her belly.

"Oh, my love, my darling wife. Thank you, Elsie. Thank you." Charles murmurs out on a shuddering sigh as she strokes her fingers through his love and sleep-mussed hair.

"There is no need to thank me, Love. For it was most _assuurredly_ my pleasure too, you know. I am just very glad you liked it!" she says with a smile in her voice.

" 'Like' does not even _begin_ to describe what I feel, my darling."

Elsie is rather pleased but still more than a little surprised at her ability to do something like that and for the result to be so delightful for them both. Elsie still feels her own liquid excitement stirring warm and low within her. It certainly all feels strangely naughty to have loved Charles in this way, but it was infinitely beautiful too- like they have just shared in something quite sacred.

"I love you, Elsie. Have I told you that yet this morning?"

"Well, not in those exact words, but I did get the idea. I love you too, a chagair." And she leans down to kiss into his hair at the back of his head that still rests against her belly before she gently extricates herself from his embrace.

Charles is still far too unsure of the strength of his knees to even attempt standing. He sits there, quite literally- and indeed, figuratively- in all of his glory, and he watches Elsie as she quickly wipes over the vanity top with the freshened cloth, and then rinses and wrings it out a final time before hanging it to dry.

Then, as she takes her toothbrush from the glass, Elsie speaks to Charles, "I hope you are not offended, my love, but I think I should like to brush my teeth again after all of that." And she is helpless to prevent a proud and impish grin from twitching at her lips as she draws his robe loosely over her shoulders as she brushes. That irrepressible and foolish grin that Charles now seems to permanently house within his person rises fully breaks over his face once more.

"Not at all, Els, in fact, I rather think I should prefer it."

Charles cannot help himself either- laughter rumbles up from deep within his belly at the sight of them both- he, as naked as the day he was born, and Elsie with her hair flying away from its loose knot, her toothbrush inelegantly sticking out of her mouth, and draped to the floor in his open fronted and oversized fluffy white bathrobe. It is monstrously large and completely adorable on her.

"I believe you have something of mine, Mrs Carson." And he is close enough to be able to hook onto one of the robe's ties and reel her into his lap. He grabs her toothbrush from her mouth and flicks it with outlandish flair into the basin, wipes the excess foam from her lips with his thumb, rubbing the residue of it unceremoniously onto the robe and then kisses her soundly.

"And you, sir, still require some house training!" Elsie laughs happily as she slaps lightly at his chest when they break apart, then she motions to stand up again.

"Please stay, Elsie-love, I don't think I am ready to move yet, and there is something I need to run past you."

"Oh, I think I can be convinced to linger here for a moment longer, Mr Carson," and she ducks her head into his neck and inhales the fresh, clean manliness of him, brushing her slightly open lips back and forth over his delightfully soft and smooth shaven skin, sighing happily into his warmth "Mmm. What is it, Charles?"

"Well Els, you can say no to this if you don't want our plans to change, but I took the liberty last night when you were changing for dinner of getting Jenson, the butler, to check on our booking in Scarborough."

"How do you mean Charles? There is no problem with it I hope?"

"No, no," he reassures her quickly, "No problem. Nothing like that. It's just that, if you wanted to, Els, I rather thought we might take an extra day here instead. The room in Scarborough can be filled quickly by someone else at this time of year on the coast, and... I just saw how much you love it here, and Jenson assures me we can be accommodated for one more evening in this suite, and all train tickets can be easily transferred to tomorrow… so,... I thought we might stay in the lap of luxury for just a while longer. We may never have such a chance again, you see."

Elsie is somewhat aghast and has lifted her head from the crook of his neck to see if Charles is serious.

"But Charles how on earth would we pay for it! For I think this is an awful liberty to take of his Lordship's goodwill! Surely this room would cost much more than even the best one he may have arranged for us at the Grand Hotel in Scarborough. And what did you suppose would be so entertaining for us to stay an extra day in London for anyway?- and on a Monday at that!"

"Well, if we must speak of money, _again,_ Mrs Carson, I can assure you I that I will be the soul of discretion when dealing with any queries from his Lordship regarding the change of plan, for I know that I can cover any shortfall, and of course I shall ensure there is no embarrassment to you at all by the suggested change of plans. ...And," he continues in a close secrecy against her ear, "in relation to that latter point, I had rather thought the scenery right here was worthy of much closer inspection and more than adequate inducement for us to stay on in London to explore." Elsie shivers slightly at his warm breath near her ear, and at his suggestiveness. "And, well...as for my ultimate intentions, I was rather hoping to not actually move at all from this suite so that we may utilise the superior facilities here in order to… well… make love together... and to do so whenever the mood should take us,… and whenever the need for food and sleep hasn't completely overwhelmed us first. I do, of course, have a more detailed proposal for how our time may be scheduled, should you require further elucidation, my dear Mrs Carson."

"Well!" She gasps out. "That would have to be the most decadent and decidedly _indecent_ proposal I have ever heard, Mr Carson! You are making me blush!"

"Good!- for you are very pretty when you blush, Elsie. So, are you offended by, or amenable to my plans? Because I for one am not yet ready to spend half a day in train travel back to Scarborough. In fact, I do wonder that it might not have been more convenient to be installed at Brighton somewhere for our time near the seaside, but I don't think I can change all of the family's surprise gift to us without offending _them_.

"Most certainly not! But I am not at all sure about this, Charles. It feels scandalous!" _Oh, my! But it is tempting!_

Charles looks a little crestfallen; despite saying he would accept Elsie's decision.

She starts circling her fingers through his chest hair and then she peers up at him, "But…well, ...perhaps you should _at least_ run through your proposed itinerary for the day with me, Mr Carson," walking her fingers up to press into the cleft of his chin once again, "…before I make my final decision, you see."

Charles beams. _More than_ _halfway won already!_ he thinks.

"Well, it is only a rough outline so far, M'lady, so there would be scope to shuffle some activities around, I am sure, but I was rather thinking that we may start with you asserting your prerogative as a married woman now, to have your breakfast in bed... with your personal butler in attendance, of course. ...And then we could maybe look at the morning papers together... or not... for perhaps said Butler could not really give a tuppence for the goings-on of the outside world today and he will be too busy returning a lovely gesture to his dear Mrs Carson that has just been afforded him in this very room. Although, now that I think on it, scheduling-wise, I think _that_ may best be seen to _before_ our breakfast arrives- for we have still arranged for a late delivery of that and we would still have ample time to see to those very particular needs."

"Well," Elsie breathes out heavily, "go on, please, Mr Carson. Your plan is beginning to sound ve _rry_ enticing, so far."

"Mmm…." He groans happily into her neck as he nuzzles into her again. "So, Mrs Carson, after breakfast, I thought that we may catch up on those few extra moments of sleep you mentioned you may need when you awoke earlier ... and after that we could perhaps...umm, oh, I don't know," he looks at her roguishly, "maybe make love ... and then possibly stop for lunch- I could be even be convinced to dress appropriately and make it as far as the balcony for that- if it is not too hot outside... and then I have a sneaking suspicion that your personal room butler may want to return to bed to lavish more particular attention upon his ladyship ... which I imagine will lead to such a level of exhaustion that we may have to take our scheduled half day off together, Mrs Hughes, in order to sleep through until dinner time. Hmm...unless, of course, we should happen to wake and require some afternoon tea... and then we could sleep, perhaps, or we might return for another innings, so to speak, and make love and then sleep and ... And well, we could, of course, make love in there again somewhere... I think... I'm losing track a bit- the schedule does get a little bit nebulous in there really." Elsie is giggling heartily at his ridiculous speech now. "But, I suppose, we could bathe again in there somewhere, M'Lady, and maybe have dinner delivered to the room at some point- Whatever takes your fancy Mrs Carson. How will that schedule fit in with your day-plan so far, do you think?"

"You do present a very convincing, if somewhat ambitious argument, Mr Carson! My! I would say it is just as well we are still going to Scarborough after a day such as this, for surely we will both be in dire need of the restorative spa waters on offer there if we actually should survive such a heavy and... shall we say, 'strenuous' schedule! Gosh! I cannot promise that I will be able to keep up with your vision of this particular 'test-match', my love- as delightful as it all sounds."

"Well! That sounds to me that we may be in agreement, Mrs Hughes, and as I said, I don't mind adjusting the schedule throughout the day to suit my lady's _particular_ requirements. Shall I go and inform Jenson that he can make to make all the necessary arrangements?"

"Well, I see no reason to race off to Scarborough quite so soon with such a fine day on offer right here, my dear Mr Carson, and I would hazard that, rather than the train trip tomorrow seeming such an odious way to spend four hours of our day, we may be well set to use it as time to sleep and recover before the seaside beckons! You may go and inform Jenson, thank you, Carson!"

Charles is overjoyed, and he does not hide it from Elsie, as he dots sweet kisses all over her face, before returning to those delightfully silky and love swollen lips of hers, lingering once more until they are both quite short of breath again.

"Oh, Elsie…" he breathes heavily. "We should move…" and as he lifts her off his lap and focuses on unlocking his hips so as to somehow stand without actually groaning aloud, he decides to take this as his moment to gently rib her in return for all of the loving barbs she has sent his way this morning. "But I do worry, Mrs Carson,… about how we might manage our morning schedules when we get back home, you see, for you do seem to spend an inordinately large amount of time in the bathroom of a morning." And his attempt at a dead-pan expression fails him miserably as she slaps him good-naturedly on his bare belly. "Ouch!" he hams it up with mock-pain.

"Oh! You are a devil, Charles!... and I do think it is _still_ far too early to be negotiating the full terms of our marriage just yet!" unable to forego having the parting shot as she flounces out of the bathroom dramatically, nearly tripping on the hem of his bathrobe as it tangles about her feet as she enters the dressing room.

Charles catches up to her and grasps her firmly about the waist before she can do any damage to herself and they both giggle helplessly together.

"Perhaps you ought to hand over that stolen garment now, Mrs Carson, and wear this one instead."

And Charles reaches back around the edge of the bathroom door to retrieve one of the smaller robes on offer, whilst managing to drag his own off her petite frame, flinging it up over his shoulder to be seen to later. He drapes Elsie's own robe around her shoulders and runs his large warm hand slowly down the inside of it, tracing all of her soft curves down to her hip and feeling her skin ripple delightfully under his touch, before he lovingly wraps the sides of it around her. The desire he inspires in her flickers darkly in her eyes.

"I rather thought you were insisting upon not a stitch gracing me ever again when we are alone, Charles," she intones somewhat breathlessly.

"Oh,… I don't know," he returns softly as he lightly ties a knot at her waist. "For, I have always thought that a beautiful, classically sculpted form can also be delightfully enhanced with some carefully placed drapery. So, I will allow you at least this stitch of clothing this morning, my love." And he kisses her softly and thoroughly on the lips.

"Come, lovely wife-of-mine," he intones darkly, "Let us repair to the main boudoir."

Charles pulls his own robe around himself and then guides Elsie through the door of the dressing room with his palm pressed lightly to her lower back. But she stops quite suddenly just as she re-enters their bedroom apartment and giggles into her hand, her cheeks reddening behind her fingers.

"Oh, Lord Charles! Definitely, some house training will be required in here!"

Charles has draped his arm lightly about Elsie's shoulder and laughs fiendishly at the sight before them and the heated memories they throw up in his mind- their elegant evening clothes from the night before strewn haphazardly all across the room.

"I don't know Els, I feel strangely settled about having this _particular_ brand of disorder surrounding me."

Elsie looks up at him to see an idiotically proud grin gracing his features and cannot help but laugh again.

"Come on now, Charles, we can't have the room looking such a mess when breakfast arrives, I will never be able to look a house-maid straight in the eye ever again! You go and call through to Jenson quickly, and then help me straighten this mess up."

"As you wish, M'lady." And he strides off to the telephone table near the foyer, bending to pick up his Arrow collar, silk tie and a brass collar pin he has managed to spy beneath the valet sideboard along the way.

Once he has set the wheels in motion for them to stay on in London for one more day, Charles turns to continue picking up oddments of their evening attire from the floor. He walks to hang Elsie's wedding gown in her dressing room. It is rather badly wrinkled! He knows she will want it seen to before they go to Scarborough and at least the Ritz Hotel can be trusted to handle the care of such a fine garment without damaging it. He runs the silk of it over the backs of his fingertips before he turns to the main room again. _It is beautiful. Elsie is beautiful._

On his way back to her side, Charles sees that Elsie has made quick work of clearing up the detritus of their love-making from the night before. Charles bends to pick up his starch-fronted shirt which they had thrown off with passionate abandon last night. A single button that had been hanging by its final thread drops to the floor and rolls under the bed. He groans, but really could not be bothered trying to bend down and fossick about for it. Then he sees that several other buttons from the fixings that run down the back opening of it are already gone, and memories of Elsie's unbridled fervour for him last night make him grin fiendishly all over again.

"You know, Mrs Carson, we really are going to have to retire soon, for I am afraid that my evening livery will not withstand very many more months in good condition now that you have your hands on me every night!"

"Now _that_ sounds like a challenge right there, Mr Carson!"

Charles' eyes have darkened with a hunters intensity as he visualises ravishing his wife again- bathing every inch of her beautiful body with his loving kisses. Dangerously low, he asks her, "And if it is,…Mrs Carson?"

"Well then, Charles…" She says pointedly as she drapes the rest of his tail-suit items neatly across the plush foot-board settee at the end of their bed, ready to be collected by the valet service later, then she holds his gaze unflinchingly, "I would suggest, _Sir_ , that you had best be about it…"

Elsie hears a low rumbling growl and perceives a lightning-quick flash of movement. In the shocked and wide-eyed second that exists between two heartbeats, the sight of a rumpled, white-clad Mr Carson suspended momentarily in midair as he sails across their crumpled king-sized bed to capture her is a most decidedly _not_ something that Elsie ever thought would grace her vision in this lifetime.

CECECECECE

oOoOoOoOo

 _ **The Ubiquitous BorneToFlow Chapter-length Chapter Notes for Your General Edification and/or Frustration!**_

 ***** **On Lock-Jaw: ** Main point here is that the vaccination for Tetanus was not developed/ released until 1924. So, in the 1860s, Charles would most certainly have been in quite some danger of contracting it and dying from his injury with a tool that had come in contact with it through manure and soil and the like. A deadly disease it was and still is. Death would have been painful and frightening. Wikipedia again for more basic info! **wiki/Tetanus#Treatment**

 **The _Howard's End_ Quote I mentioned as being influential to me:**

"Outwardly [Henry Wilcox] was cheerful, reliable, and brave; but within, all had reverted to chaos, ruled, so far as it was ruled at all, by an incomplete asceticism. Whether as boy, husband, or widower, he had always the sneaking belief that bodily passion is bad... And it was here that Margaret hoped to help him.

It did not seem so difficult. She need trouble him with no gift of her own. She would only point out the salvation that was latent in his own soul, and in the soul of every man. Only connect! That was her whole sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die."

oOoOo

~~Although, I quite obviously don't subscribe to the notion that Charles is as uptight about bodily passions as Henry Wilcox is! I would say that Charles is cheerful, reliable and brave, though and that he is in quite some emotional flux at this juncture in life. And again- Charles is not a complete or incomplete ascetic in my mind- just... disciplined.

However, the second part of this quote is certainly where the cleansing and renewal ritual idea of my piece came from, and the following biblical quote was also influential

 **3 John 1:2 \- ** Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth.

 **On Baptism imagery used: ** If you are interested in some of the history and symbolism and beliefs around baptism/christening across denominations of the Christian faith, then - good ol' wikipedia is a reasonable place to start. Go to **wiki/Baptism**

My Catholic upbringing has no doubt influenced the imagery I have used. From what I gather, C of E/Protestantism probably takes a different approach, but I have no personal experience of it. Ultimately, it is the imagery and the notion of cleansing and rebirth, not so much of sin, but of pain; and not deliverance into the hands/kingdom of God as such, but into the hands and arms of human love that I was after in this fic. I think my listening to the R.E.M. version of Robyn Hitchcock's great song _"The Arms of Love"_ played a role in what came out when I started writing this piece too!

But again, no offence to people of faith was intended by placing this adapted baptism ritual within this highly charged and sexualised context/content. I just hope it kind of worked for some people out there and suits Charles and Elsie's journey.

 **On word choice:** What is interesting about my writing process, is that I use a dictionary and thesaurus extensively to find alternate words to paint the word pictures and soundscapes on paper/screen that I would like - and of course to avoid boredom and repetition. In doing this, can I just say that there is a total dearth of words in the English language to describe washing and cleaning/cleansing in a very elegant manner! And also, I think we all need to make an effort to invent new words for laughing and smiling and happiness! IMHO! For there seems to be a multitude of words to choose from to describe the myriad of negative emotions that humans feel, but much, much less is out there for these particular positive behaviours and feelings. So, if you can point me to any of your favourite words in this regard, it would be greatly appreciated!

 **On word choice re Charles:** I don't want to squick too many people out here, but I feel I should mention, particularly given the generally high level of US readers I tend to have, that the way of have described Charles' 'manhood' is with the knowledge that for a lower class man born at home in the 1850s, he would almost definitely have been "intact". Upper-class births may have been a different story. But really, high rates of male circumcision at birth is mostly a strange phenomenon of the 20th century for the "Western World"- (is it still even referred to as the Western world?), and the US still maintains an incredibly high rate of male circumcision at birth when compared with other countries like the UK, where rates have been dropping for many, many years.

Short story is that the increasing medicalisation of child birth in the 20th century played a role, along with the influence of the military in the interwar years that saw the rise in adult rates of the operation as a supposed means to prevent the spread of venereal disease in the armed forces (based on less than scant medical evidence, as it was). These men then had children, who asked for, or were railroaded into having their sons 'look' the same, by doctors who believed the bunkum for whatever reason, etc etc. Go to the web- page I have listed if you really want to know more- it is a fascinating history and a major triumph of fallacies being believed above scientific research and real medical knowledge.

So, there may be readers out there with less "experience" of intact manhood, and I hope that the word choices/ imagery I used and actions described now seem to make sense/ are fitting. Of course, my aim was to describe something very beautiful and I hope that you liked it on that level.

 **So! Did you guess the poem I was influenced by for some of my imagery with Charles? -Let me know if you did, or what your alternate guesses were so I can go and read them. Leave it in a review if you can :)**

It was:

 **Kubla Khan**

 **BY SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE (1797 and published in 1816).**

 ** _Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment._**

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

~Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round;

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

oOoOo

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:

And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;

And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

~The shadow of the dome of pleasure

~Floated midway on the waves;

~Where was heard the mingled measure

~From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

oOoOo

~A damsel with a dulcimer

~In a vision once I saw:

~It was an Abyssinian maid

~And on her dulcimer she played,

~Singing of Mount Abora.

~Could I revive within me

~Her symphony and song,

~To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

oOoOoOoOo

So, Coleridge claimed this poem was unfinished due to an interruption at his door when he was writing it. Supposedly he had been reading about Xanadu prior to falling into an opium-induced dream state and this is how he envisioned the palace of Kubla khan and then described it upon waking. Coleridge's contemporaries thought the whole thing pretty awful at the time, but it is now of course, one of the most widely known poems going around- the sort of thing that school kids have been made to learn and recite verbatim over the years.

 **Spoiler Alert!**

 **oOoOoOoOo**

 **oOoOoOoOo**

 **Now let me disturb you regarding school kids reciting such a thing, and potentially ruin it ALL for some of you!** ;P

Coleridge's explanation aside- I actually read this poem as more of a laudanum-soaked nocturnal emission, which ends abruptly because, well- it ends for him- quite literally- so to speak!

You have to admit, there is lots of imagery of feminine domes and cavities and chasms, and then the phallic symbolism and imagery throughout it too- gushing forth etc etc. Go back and read it again if you dare- and tell me if I am barmy- or have a disturbed mind. But, bear in mind, that you too have just read through 15,000 words of something that was attempting the effect I believe can be found so much more succinctly in Coleridge's poem- just sayin'! :)

Oh!- and read poetry out aloud whenever you can. It just makes more sense :)

 **Final notes on the erotica I do write: ** I do aim for it to be somewhat poetic to read. I can only hope it succeeds at times. Also, I aim that I should not use erotic scenes in a gratuitous way- but that is, of course, a very subjective thing for each and every reader.

What I mean by non-gratuitous is that when I present Charles and Elsie engaging in this way, I do try very hard to make sure that it still explores/show who they are individually and in partnership, and what they mean to each other. But equally, the circumstances leading up to, and sometimes within the machinations of their lovemaking needs to move them to a new place personally- to a greater depth of understanding about themselves and their relationship- otherwise, I would probably partake of the 'fade-to-black' method of presentation a lot more. Also, if I should start to become repetitious with my imagery and word choice, I shall also aim to desist this style of writing!

But, I think the fact that I take this approach when I get into the writing of these Chelsie scenes can go someway to explaining why I hear the light-hearted humour between Charles and Elsie in these intimate circumstances. To me, it is who Charles and Elsie are when they are together. She is feisty and confident and ribs him, and I think now that he has this intimate space opening up to him, Charles is free to be a playful, confident, eloquent and charming lover with Elsie.

Charles, I think is also at a very reflective and emotional age in his life. I think men can often 'soften' in their latter years, for want of a better way of putting it- they can be reflective and more openly emotional sometimes- and for a multitude of reasons (wisdom of age, time to reflect, moving away from work as the defining identity, birth of grandchildren, etc etc.). So, in my mind, I think that Charles is definitely a man who is opening up more and more emotionally as he moves away from the strictures of his work 'role'- for _it is_ _a role_ that he has played for a very long time, and he is starting to let go of it to lead a very different life with Elsie- and that is a big transition- even without canon stuff that I refuse to acknowledge- like the S6 palsy-palaver.

Likewise, Elsie has cycled through menopause a good ten years ago, her work life is changing and new babies around the Abbey are making her reflect on her choices about motherhood and womanhood etc. She has many reasons for why she may have been afraid of her impending 'full-marriage' with Charles. I have touched on some that I think are reasonable, but I do find Elsie is more difficult to pin down than Charles is, even in a general sense. At the end of the day, though, and to me at least, Elsie is strong and confident and emotionally attuned to others needs, and I hope it scans as realistic that she finds her sexual confidence with Charles fairly quickly and embraces it easily now that they are finally there. Let me know if you think I am way off track. Any alternate insights are always fun to mull over.

On another front, there is still pleasure to be had in reading erotica just for the sake of it. So, if that is what you want, then I can only hope that my individual chapters that move into this territory are fairly well written and gratifying for some readers out there on that particular level too. I aim to avoid being _too_ visceral, and I will never move into anything that is not loving and respectful for the characters involved, for I do not like to think on or write about these acts if they are not based on equality and liberty for each participant.

 **As always, reviews are wonderful to receive and help me to know if what I am doing is worthwhile to others. I endeavour to PM respond if you are signed up. But I love the guest reviews too!**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow :)**


	30. Chapter 30- Delicate Negotiations Pt1

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 30- Delicate Negotiations (Part 1)**

 _"You know, Mrs Carson, we really are going to have to retire soon, for I am afraid that my evening livery will not withstand very many more months in good condition now that you have your hands on me every night!"_

"Now that sounds _like a challenge right there, Mr Carson!"_

 _Charles' eyes have darkened with a hunter's intensity as he visualises ravishing his wife again- bathing every inch of her beautiful body with his loving kisses. Dangerously low, he asks her, "And if it is,…Mrs Carson?"_

 _"Well then, Charles…" She says pointedly as she drapes the rest of his tail-suit items neatly across the plush foot-board settee at the end of their bed, ready to be collected by the valet service later, then she holds his gaze unflinchingly, "I would suggest,_ _Sir_ _, that you had best be about it…"_

 _Elsie hears a low rumbling growl and perceives a lightning-quick flash of movement. In the shocked and wide-eyed second that exists between two heartbeats, the sight of a rumpled, white-clad Mr Carson suspended momentarily in mid-air as he sails across their crumpled king-sized bed to capture her is a most decidedly_ not _something_ _that Elsie ever thought would grace her vision in this lifetime._

CECECECECE

Charles rests his chin heavily on Elsie's pulsating belly. The aftershocks of her exhilaration still shudder through her internal muscles, and she twists her hips slightly to shy away from further contact from him at her most sensitive core. Every nerve ending feels spliced and incapable of telegraphing any sort of cogent messages in an orderly fashion to her brain. Charles' jubilant eyes gaze in wide-eyed wonder across the glorious landscape of his wife's body stretched out before him- all quaking dips and shimmering rises- eyes closed and chin still jutting skywards from the peak of her ecstasy- hair cascading over the pillow and the powdery avalanche of her soft bathrobe falling in a pure white drift around the entire relief of her intense pleasure.

Charles reaches for her hand and unfurls the tie of the robe she had twisted her hand into during her fervour. He releases the cloth from the vice-like grip of her fingers and replaces it with the gentle intertwining of his own tingling fingers, drawing her safely back to earth with him.

"My beautiful Elsie. What an absolute vision you are," he murmurs softly to her.

He makes his slow journey back up her body, glancing soft kisses over her skin along the way, resting briefly with his head in the valley of her breasts as he listens to her breathing and the drubbing of her heart starting to slow- moving next to brush his smoothly shaven cheek over both crested nipples and then skirting his tongue across her smooth rounded shoulder- pierced with hot sweat. Then he moves around the edge of her jawline and across her cheekbones, nuzzling her with the soft tip of his nose before descending on her welcoming mouth with his own swollen and love-dewed lips.

When they finally draw back from their languid expression of loving gratitude to one another, Elsie manages to grasp onto and direct the voice that has been echoing through her mind since Charles first began his lustful exploration of her body with his tongue.

"Don't ever stop …please don't ever stop doing that for me, Charles. Don't ever stop." She breathes out heavily. "My God, Charles, you have no idea. Please don't ever stop loving me that way."

"Not a chance my love. I adore you." He rumbles out low and sweet across her cheek as he looks deep into her love-glazed eyes. "And I have far more _idea_ about it than you credit me with. Hmmm..." he sighs out happily. "Oh, My Elsie, I absolutely _adore_ loving you that way, a chagair- I don't ever want to stop seeing you, and hearing you, feeling you…. and _tasting_ you this way, Elsie-love." Then he smiles at her with such lustful glee at this last thought that he feels his face might actually crack. _She tastes of utter bliss_.

"Dear God, I have been so wanton with you this morning, Charles! It still shocks me some."

He speaks softly to her. "I don't think I am keen on that word, Elsie. It suggests we have done something lewd and slovenly -and yet we haven't… and it wasn't – it was loving and giving and beautiful- so very, very beautiful, Elsie-love. You know it was. And you could _never_ be wanton to me, pretty Elspeth, not ever- it is not who you are at all- it has never been, nor will it ever be – You are a true lady and you know it."

"Oh, Charles, you are just so _h_ wonderful to me, a chagair."

"I could say the same about you, my love. My precious wife." And he dusts more kisses across her face. "So very passionate and loving, my pretty Elspeth."

"Hmm," she sighs in complete contentment, now that her body has re-centred and is wiring itself back into some semblance of equilibrium and normalcy. "How did we ever live without this pleasure for so long, Charles?"

"I guess we never really knew what we were missing, did we?"

"Well, that's the truth. But I believe we may have just proven that it was all well worth the wait."

Charles laughs aloud. "Well, that _is_ the truth!" And he kisses he slowly once more. "Hmmm…But, this life is rather wonderful don't you think, Elsie?"

"Haaah…" She breathes out long in a high and relaxed tone, "Don't I know it?!"

There is a light tap on their room door.

"Ooh!" Elsie ruffles his hair vigorously "And breakfast in bed too! What more could a girl want, hmm? Quickly Charles, straighten yourself up and buttle yourself over there for it." She grins at him impishly.

"Grmph!" He grumbles at her as he makes to move. "…. Just a moment!" Charles bellows out towards the door as he looks at Elsie with some consternation- pulling her robe shut for her and tying it abruptly and just a little _too_ securely at her front as she raises herself up on her pillows.

As Charles walks in a stately manner towards the door, briskly straightening his own bathrobe on the way and trying to slick his unruly hair back a little whilst muttering beneath his breath, he bends to pick up a pillow Elsie had tossed aside as he had made love to her. Turning back to see her nestled queen-like against the headboard, with her hands clasped demurely in her lap- he lobs the fluffy cloud towards her head and states self-righteous pomposity "Milady, I will have you know that I have never _buttled_ anywhere in my entire life!"

"Oooph!" Elsie is still giggling like a silly schoolgirl with the pillow now secured across her lap as she watches Charles incline his body to open the door with his usual elegant and precise movements, one hand resting at his lower back. She only just manages to hold in her snickering laughter as she silently prays that Charles' bathrobe will not fall open in an undignified manner as the maid delivers their breakfast trolley into the room.

CECECECECE

Once Charles has tipped the maid from their stock of small change on the valet sideboard and sent her on her way with all of their evening wear that requires cleaning and pressing, he then sets about making good on his promise to be Elsie's personal room butler this breakfast time. He sets the fold out tray for her and pours the tea.

"Come on, Charles, that's enough of all that." And she pats the bed next to her. "Pour your own tea and come and share this with me, Love. I much prefer having you near me, to having you waiting on me hand and foot."

"I shall gladly, oblige, Milady."

"Here, have some toast and bacon. I think my lovely Yorkshireman more than deserves his full English breakfast today. Do you want the black pudding too?"

"Just a little. Is the tea meeting with your approval today, Milady?"

"Och, stop it with the Milady palaver Charles, I don't want to feel too much like I am overhearing you in the Great Hall at work. The tea is lovely, and it is time for you to start your holiday properly and eat your ruddy pudding."

He cannot help himself, giving her a silly smile before he finally lets go of his ingrained habit "As you wish Milady."

"Honestly!" She huffs out at him. "When did you last take a take some real time off, anyway Charles?"

"I can't rightly remember. When was the last time all the family was away somewhere I was not needed?"

"It's been a while, I know that much."

"Must have been their summer break at Duneagle- 1919 their first trip back there after the war I think."

"Really- seven years ago! That long?!"

"Well, it was just one thing after another after that, really wasn't it? The next year we lost dear Lady Sybil. Then after that Lady Edith's failed wedding, and then the year that Lord Flintshire had to give it all up and head to India the year Lady Mary was due with Master George and we just had too much to straighten out at the Abbey… and then everything that has happened since Master Crawley's death and with the Bates's and the like. So, that really was the last time I had more than a few days off at a time."

"But you didn't even go anywhere from memory. I had asked you before I left to pay an extra visit my sister and her husband in Lytham St Ann's that year."

"That's right."

"You really don't ever stop do you, Charles? Even _I_ normally get a little down time during the London season- to go visiting and such. What did you do while I was away?"

"Well, I don't have anyone to go visiting with, Elsie. I probably just caught up on some correspondence with a few other butlers I know and mainly only run into in London during the season. I don't see them otherwise. Talked shop mainly- wines to recommend and such like. I just spent it reading mostly, and missing you quite terribly, as it was. Actually- I went out to the lake to try my hand at fishing again- although I think it was more of an excuse to be away from Mrs Patmore coming on all blood and thunder about the deep cleaning of the range or some such thing."

Elsie chuckles at this- well knowing how easily Beryl can start spitting feathers over the inevitable, tedious and quite unavoidable aspects of her work.

"I have never known you to fish Charles."

"Well, I think on that particular occasion it may have been better described as a worm drowning incident than a fishing expedition, Elsie!" this makes them both laugh. "But I was not really too focussed on achieving success, truth be told. I think that I mainly used it as my excuse to laze by the lake and get wrapped up in reading my book at the time- trying not to think on how much I was missing you. But you had given me the book- for my 63rd birthday- Thomson's Seasons suite, remember?"

"MmmHmm."

"Something to remind me of the good in the world after the war, you said to me at the time. And so, I failed miserably on that front too, for I ended up just missing you all more... God, how did I get so old, Elsie? I should have been planning for my retirement much better all the way back then."

"Don't say 63 is old Charles! I have only just edged past that recently myself! And, given the morning I have just had, I do not intend to think on that age as either late middle-age nor old anymore, thank you very much."

"Well how would you classify it, Elsie, if not old or _late middle-age_? - And what on earth does _late middle-age_ mean anyway?! Surely that would be forty-five or fifty wouldn't it—unless you plan on living to about one hundred and thirty, Mrs Carson!"

"Ha! you have a point there, I guess. Silly way to put it really, isn't it? Well, anyway, maybe I have changed my tune now, and I choose to live without too much of a sense of my own age anymore. Makes more sense really."

"And when did this particular stance occur to you then?"

"Oh… I don't know… maybe since a certain romantic butler bumbled his way through proposing marriage to me… and I accepted…and then I fumbled my way through some silliness and fears- with much help from you- and well…here we are! And now I have a sense that maybe anything really is possible, a chagair, even at my age- and so maybe my age just doesn't really matter right now- and neither does yours."

"That is a nice thought. Although, I am not sure the reality will back us up, unfortunately."

"From the man whose current grand plan is to make passionate love to me all day long!"

"Well… yes… that is certainly the dream, Elsie!" he waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. "But sadly, I think we can both tell that I have never really had a hope of keeping up with you on that or any other front really- as much as I desperately want to… well… not unless…" And he leans over to whisper in her ear, for no other reason than it allows him to nibble at her delightfully soft earlobe. "Unless you allow me to repeat what I just did for you...and as often as you will let me, Mrs Carson."

Elsie shivers in delight. And whispers back to him, purely because it is such a titillating way to converse that she would never have given much credit to, plus, what she has to say next is actually a little delicate. "Well… Mr Carson. I think I might find that a rather lovely and… soothing way to approach this day, thank you very much … And well, truth be told," and she dips her voice even lower, "well, I have to tell you something Charles … you see, I am just a tad sore from our more, shall we say, _vigorous_ activities last night. I hope you don't mind."

Charles pulls back from her to look her in the face, worry etched across his brow.

"Did I hurt you Elsie-love?"

"No Charles! Of course you didn't – you would have known it if you had. No…," and she strokes the side of his face to reassure him.

"I feel just awful Elsie. I had no idea that this would happen."

"Charles, really, you didn't hurt me. It's just that…I guess I am just a _little_ strained and sore at the moment, that's all."

"But Els, I have hurt you! How can that be when… well, everything seemed so perfect when we were together like that?" He is starting to look frantic and is really getting quite distressed at the thought that he misread Elsie's cries as ones of pleasure when in fact she was really in pain.

"Charles please, Love, don't think that! It was wonderful for me – it absolutely was. Think back on it, and you know will that to be the absolute truth."

"But how could this happen, Els. I don't want this to happen to you!"

"Oh, my darling, you must relax- I am fine, really I am…and well... it is to be somewhat expected, Charles."

"Is it?"

"Just... let me put it to you this way Charles…you see, you may well think I am just like a painting."

"A Gainsborough to be exact, Els."

"Well thank you, I am flattered. And well, … how can I put this delicately?"

"I'm truly worried now, Els."

"Don't be Charles… there is no need. In fact, you might sooner take it as a compliment. You see…Let me just put it this way to you- Well, …I may not be able to claim equally that you are like a painting… or that you fit exactly into Da Vinci's complete vision of man in the golden ratio, for example… but... I do find, my man, that _most_ of you is actually quite divinely in proportion with the _rest_ of you, Charles… and you are, shall we say, a man of quite some _stature."_ And she raises a knowing eyebrow at him and wills him to understand her.

Charles looks at her intently, and she sees the cogs slowly turning over her meaning in his mind before he finally clicks the obvious compliment into place.

"Oh…. o-OH!" And then he does look rather pleased with himself as it fully dawns on him.

"Yes. You see?"

"Umm yes…. well...I guess I had no idea, Els … I've never thought to compare such a thing anywhere, you see."

"No, me either… but, Charles, I had heard that it can take a little while for most women to 'acclimatise' to it all, so rest assured that there is not a thing you could possibly have done to alter this. In fact, I rather think your precise and devoted methods have made this all quite a bit easier for both of us anyway. So now you are free to look completely as pleased as punch again. I do much prefer that, did you know?"

"So, will you be all right?"

"Of course, I will be, Charles. It will all settle down with a little rest… and as I said… we have quickly learned some more… soothing ways to love one another, so your grand plans for today are not entirely lost…Although, … I am with you in thinking that your itinerary as stated in the bathroom may be _somewhat_ unrealistic! For as much as I don't want to think about late middle age… we cannot quite claim the same level of energy as newlyweds of the standard age range might."

"More's the pity, Els. Hmm… but I think we are both creative enough to work around these little issues- I do want what I whispered to you just before… if you will let me. I could ask for nothing sweeter today, my love- you do know that don't you, Elsie?"

"Of course, I know Charles. I welcome it … and I don't mind at all being equally as creative for you again. Hmm?"

Charles lets a shiver of anticipation roll down from his shoulders over his whole body and just grins like the lucky fool that he is once more.

"Well, it seems I am still the absolutely happiest and luckiest of men!"

"That's right. And I am the luckiest lass. Now, eat your breakfast- it's going cold."

CECECECECE

Having managed to broach this sensitive topic and traverse its particular problems without unsettling Charles too much, Elsie keeps serving bits and pieces of their breakfast food onto Charles plate as she picks up the thread of his previous revelations.

"So tell me more, Charles, I didn't know that you liked angling."

"But, surely you have met Trevor the Trout in my pantry!"

"I thought that was given to you! Or he was just left over from the previous Butler."

"No, no Trevor is my own proud quarry."

"And ugly thing he is too!"

"I will thank you not to speak so harshly of Trevor. He has done nothing to you!"

"Well, he did nought to you either, Charles- and yet you went and had him stuffed and stuck onto a board- the poor wee thing!"

"Ha! Well, true enough. But, he was the first fish I ever caught on a dry fly- so many years ago that was, too- while I was still a footman. I can't believe I've never told you that."

"I don't believe you are particularly prone to boasting, Love. Besides, I guess I never asked you either. That seems silly in itself, does it not?"

"Stuff just becomes part of the wallpaper after a while I guess. You stop seeing it when it is just there every day."

"I do hope you aren't thinking of us at all when you speak in such a way, Charles!"

"Well, even if I ever did, Elsie-love, you can rest assured that I will not be making that particular mistake now, or in the future." And he leans to kiss her on the cheek as she finishes her mouthful of toast.

"No, I don't suppose that you will. But why have you not fished more over the years then, Charles? Surely you could have on your half- days off a little more."

"Well, I guess I have always preferred fly-fishing Els. It's much more of a challenge, you see. A _real_ sport. And really, to get to the best places on the Estate at the right times of the year or time of the day for success- well, it just takes much longer than my half days allow for. I don't like to be doing these types of things in a rush."

"No. Indeed, rushing into things appears to run against your very nature, Charles. _We_ are certainly evidence of that particular proclivity!" She joshes with him. "Never a man to do things by halves, though, are you?

"But I have done it by halves, really, because I have always kept up making a collection of flies - my days as a valet have come in handy for that it seems- stitching up all those intricate little things."

"Really?" Elsie has never seen Charles work at this little hobby.

"I have- mainly using one lovely book from his Lordships library as a guide. It has some wonderful colour plates in it- very accurate etchings- and it was quite the definitive treatise on trout fishing up until just before the war. But now wet-fly fishing seems to be the more popular practice everywhere." He is speaking quite animatedly about it all now. "Far higher catch rates with wet-flies, you see. But dry–fly fishing is where the real challenge lies, Elsie. And there is quite an art to it you know? It takes some real skill to read when the fish are feeding nearer to the surface, which they don't do nearly so often as near the river bed." And then Charles slows his description right down, casting his hand out silently- fluidly weaving the picture for her in the air before them "…and then, Elsie, to cast so that the fly floats through the air and then gently alights _just_ on top of the water near where the fish will strike- and not breaking the surface with it at all….Now _that_ is a test of skill worth aiming for."

"It all sounds quite magical, Charles, and very precise."

"Oh, it is Elsie – it's like an elegant dinner service… or dancing well with you, my Love" … Elsie smiles back into his bright eyes. _Ever consistent in his approach to everything in life is my Charles,_ she thinks. "But sometimes, Els, I think I actually just liked the quiet the most, and the full day out and away from the bustle of everyone in the house- even more than catching anything at times. And making the flies gives me that too, I guess. Something quiet and peaceful and by myself. Anyway, I guess I never told you about it all because I thought you would think it silly that I made the flies but never actually used them."

"Well, I don't think it silly- not for you, anyway, because I know well enough how you are. Hmm…and timing is everything, is it not, Love? So, perhaps you were just 'cellaring' them until you were ready. Like with us, really!" She adds happily. "Hmm... "and she kisses him lovingly on the cheek as he leans over to pour another tea for each of them, and steals a strawberry from Elsie's dish. "And I am sure you have perfected making them over the years, which is just like you too, really. I would wager you make very beautiful fishing flies, Charles."

"I think some of them are quite well done, that's true."

"But, if I _had_ known, I most certainly would not have made fun of you … well …at least not for very long, anyway! Mores the like that I would have been pushing you out of the Abbey doors far more regularly, and helping you to combine your half days into whole days off, and making sure you went out to the streams to try out your lovely little fishing flies. You will have to show them to me when we get back, Love."

"You would have gone to all that trouble just to get me out of the Abbey for a while, Mrs Hughes?"

"Well, of course I would have! –If I saw that it was something that relaxed you and that you enjoyed so much."

"I suppose I do want to give them all a try one day."

"Well now! - Just think- now that you are going retire, you can try out _all_ your little fishing lures. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Well, yes, I would. So, you wouldn't mind me being out all day and coming back all mucky and smelly."

"Of course, not… I mean, I wouldn't want you disappearing on me at length _every_ single day, Charles, for I have waited for quite long enough to be with you, thank you very much! But I guess, it would offer us that space out of each other's hair that you were worried for. Plus, the cricket only runs for half the year- so you could take up something like this more often, to fill your days, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hmm, well the seasons are actually similar. But I could fish for a longer stretch of the year than the cricket runs for. And then there is always bait fishing in the lake at other times, I suppose, although that is not nearly so skillful. But I would like it. I would like to know that Trevor is not my lone great success in angling." And he smiles just like a happy little boy on a break from school with all of a summer's worth of adventures stretching out before him. "And besides. Maybe you could spend the day out with me, Els. We could picnic. And you could read, or practice your own hobbies. Do you think you might have any, Elsie- for I hate to think that you will only be working at managing events for the Ladies Auxiliary? What do you like doing outside of reading, when you relax."

"Well, I guess I have always enjoyed some needlepoint. I cannot claim to be as skilled as Miss Baxter, or even her Ladyship with embroidery, but I do well enough I suppose. Maybe I could work on a bigger project now. I have only ever done little things with the time I have had like the little cornflowers on my new nightgown I prettied up for this week away- Ha! Not that I have had more than ten minutes to wear _that_ so far with you about, Mr Carson!"

He grins proudly at this. "And that is just as it should be, _and_ I feel I am quite justified in arguing the ongoing case for it, Mrs Carson! ...So, what would you design to stitch do you think…"

"Och, I don't know- probably something for Anna and John's little one on the way first. Then, maybe I could try some flower motifs- perhaps work on a full counterpane for our bed."

"Well, just make sure it has some carnations on it then, Mrs Carson," Charles states happily as he dives into Elsie's neck and kisses into that special spot just below her ear.

"Urk! Stop it, Charles- your lips are still all greasy from the bacon! And she swats him away with her napkin before trying to mop up the mess from her neck "Anyway. Maybe I _will_ come out picnicking with you sometimes- if you'll have me."

"Hmm, I might even consider teaching you to cast a fly, Elsie… but I would wager you would embarrass me by being an immediate natural at it and breaking any paltry catch record I have to date in no time flat."

"Oh, I don't know if it would be for me. I think I would sooner fossick along near the riverbank."

"Well, just so long as you don't startle the fish away."

"And just so long as _you_ don't decorate our cottage with too many more 'Trevors,' Charles!"

"No, I think not-I'd much rather eat my quarry now I think."

"Well, I hope you don't expect me to be cleaning anything you happen to haul in, Charles- that is most definitely a task for the angler himself. Disgusting work it is. So, I am afraid it would adequately curb any desire I may have to catch fish of my own- I don't want to be stuck cleaning and gutting any fish! So, I do predict that your bag record shall remain the pride of our home."

"Well, maybe I could just try for one more catch for display, though Els, for I would love to land a grayling with a dry-fly one day too." And he looks dreamily into the middle distance of the room.

"Why is that Charles?"

"Well, they would make a lovely pair I think, Els- 'Trevor and his Lady of the Stream'- as the Graylings are known. They are a far prettier and more elegant fish than boring old Trevor the stout and ruddy Brown trout- that much is certain. There is a lovely colour plate in Roland's … that book- I was telling you of. I will show you when we return to the abbey. – and if ever I catch one I shall honour you with sole naming rights for her, Mrs Carson," and he smiles happily at the thought.

"Oh, dear! Why do I get the distinct sense that you may somehow be comparing _us_ to a couple of dried out old kippers, Charles! I am not sure I like the notion. And why 'Trevor'- of all names?"

"Ha! Simple alliteration appealed to me in the first instant, I guess... But then I had been studying Burke's peerage fairly closely- even when I was the first footman- because I wanted to know where everything sits with regards to the Grantham's. And, Trevor was actually caught on one of my last days out fishing properly when I was still the Under-butler before I became Butler. So he is quite a prize in that respect too, I guess."

"Well then- indeed he is."

"Well, and Trevor is actually named for the Baronetcy of Trevor and the later attendant title of Viscount Hampden, which were both dissolved in 1824- and actually, for the baronetcy that was to be the second dissolution of the title. But then the Baronetcy has been granted a third time now to another family line since the 1860s - but that is definitely a whole other story in itself."

"So, which particular Baron is Trevor named for?" Not really at all surprised that Charles has a lengthy and intricate reasoning for his choice of name.

"Well, I found out that this second iteration of the title died out after the death of the 3rd Viscount- who was also the 6th Baron, who had no heir. But then, when I dug back a little further I found out that the 4th Baron and 1st Viscount- Robert Hampden–Trevor had actually preceded the 1st Earl of Grantham as Postmaster General for the United Kingdom in 1765.

"My gosh, Charles! How on earth do you remember all these names and dates? For the peerage does have a propensity to come up with far too many names and titles and yet you seem to know them all." Elsie exclaims in quite some wonder at the way he holds all of these details in his head.

"Part of the job, I guess. And they do all marry into the different estates and titles, so they collect a lot of names over time. But I do enjoy it, Els- it is like a big puzzle. Although I do generally have to research a little before most visitors arrive at the Abbey- I don't really recall all of them as well as this, but I suppose Trevor does hold a special place in my memories."

"Well, I am still suitably impressed Charles, really."

"Well anyway- there you have it- Trevor the Trout named for the 4th Baron who had a most tenuous link to the First Earl of Grantham as Postmaster General– and so my small link to becoming indentured for life with the later Earls of Grantham…- and …well… I guess Trevor is my little tribute to a past that can all too easily be forgotten, really, for the titles can be quite transient- as we both know, Els- Even His Lordship has always had that spectre of no living male heir hanging over his life's work and title."

"I see what you mean. So, Trevor the trout is a reminder of what you were trying to uphold with the Grantham's perhaps? Almost prophetic, he seems."

"Huph… I guess so. Although now we have young Master George to carry things forward at least."

"Indeed. But Good old Trevor, hmm? The namesake of a 4th Baron- and a great and noble fish in the history of the Carson lineage to be to be sure." And she grins at her husband's little quirks and interests. "Well, Charles, Baron Trevor the Brown Trout shall continue to have pride of place in our cottage too then - even if he is the ugliest member of the aristocracy that I have ever seen!"

"Thank you, my love."

"So, tell me, who did this 1st Viscount Hampden or Baron Trevor or whatever marry anyway? - For I would have to name your Lady of the Stream for her sake when you do catch her."

"Ah ha- well- you see that is where the plot thickens. He continues animatedly "For it turns out that Baron Trevor was to be posthumously exposed as being embroiled in a former secret marriage scandal!"

"Oh, Lord! - Elsie exclaims in mock horror "But _why_ does that not truly surprise me?! Seriously, cannot _any_ of the peerage live quiet and honest lives?"

"Hmm- apparently not. Anyway, he married Constantia de Huybert in the 1740s. But- In the 1880s, when I actually caught Trevor, it was revealed in the Pall Mall Gazette that he most likely had hushed up a prior clandestine Fleet Prison marriage. And all the paperwork had been destroyed, and the truth of the lady's identity was completely suppressed. And all of this only came to light when the lineage of Lord Randolph Churchill was being traced- all the way back to a very tenuous link to the title of Trevor via a first cousin of Baron Trevor's who was Lord Churchill's great-great-great-great grandmother – or some such thing. Anyway, if the Baron's first Fleet Prison marriage really did exist, the Baronetcy should have gone another way - to the Reverend Doctor John Trevor, according to claims by his descendants- So! There is the whole sorry and sordid tale as far as I know it!" And Charles smiles, completely enjoying this ridiculous exchange about the nomenclature of a dried fish with Elsie over their breakfast, for they have never been able to enjoy such totally frivolous nonsense before.

"Lord Above! Trevor! What a slippery old fish you are! So, who could this mythical Lady of the Stream be?"

"Ah, the trail has been well and truly hushed up within the highest heraldic offices in the land, I am afraid. So, we will probably never know. What do you imagine her name to be, though, Elsie?"

"Oh, I think in the interests of some historical accuracy, we would have to find out some of the Reverends children's names- for perhaps we could then guess at his own mother's name with that. Where would we find that sort of thing out?"

"Well, I guess the relevant parish register the Reverend Trevor was installed at would be the place to start – his children would surely be registered in the records there. Somewhere in Somerset rings a bell, if I recall the letter from his descendant's in the Gazette correctly. I may be able to find out who his patron was through his Lordship's library, though. That would be a start. But is it really worth all the effort, Elsie? Surely, you could just make something up?"

"No! You went to the effort to give Trevor the Trout a proper lineage. Ha!... I just had a thought, Charles! Perhaps you could write a book called 'Trout's Peerage' in your retirement!"

Charles glances bemusedly towards his wife. "You know, …I am not entirely sure of your likeness to a lump of melting jelly anymore, Elsie. For I rather think you are closer to being as nutty as one of Mrs Patmore Christmas fruit cakes!"

"Oh! Thank you very much- from the man who has kept a dead fish in his office for forty odd years! I think perhaps _I_ should be the one contacting Bedlam Hospital for you! Anyway, I think Trevor the Trout's first true love deserves some respect after all these years, don't you?" Charles can only look at his wife somewhat agog. "Well…It could be fun, Charles," she says with a little wiggle of excitement running through her. "We could make it a reason to go on another little holiday somewhere down the track, don't you think? - For I have never been to Somerset- if that is where this trail leads us. Maybe you will finally catch your Lady of the Stream in a county other than Yorkshire- make it a bit of an angling trip for you too."

That Elsie would latch onto this small and somewhat flippant piece of his past and find enjoyment in it for them to share astounds Charles. He shakes his head at her incredulously but smiles at the thought of traipsing about the nation with her and trying to name a salmon he has yet to catch. Retirement certainly need not be such a dull prospect after all- not with Elsie by his side.

 **CECECECECE**

 **On Fly- fishing- or "Where I drew my fish-spriation from for this chapter"**

 **I personally subscribe to the worm drowning incident brand of fishing that Charles described, I am afraid. So, I went and found my information on Dry-fly fishing vs. wet-fly fishing vs. fresh bait fishing; plus details of freshwater fish species in the UK; and on and off** **season fishing times in the UK and Yorkshire from various specialist blogs and generalist wiki pages:**

 **wiki/Fly_fishing**

 **\- the website for all anglers.**

 **There were many others- but I didn't bookmark them.**

 **oOOo**

 **The book Charles would have used is The Fly Fisher's Etymology by Alfred Ronald's (1849).**

 **wiki/The_Fly-fisher's_Entomology**

 **It focused on dry-fly fishing, introduced new ideas about how trout see their food, where they feed and also had detailed instructions on** **how to mimic insects and make the dry-flies from things like rabbit fur and the like.**

 **The next link has the frontis piece image from the book that I think has inspired Charles to want to catch a mate for dear old Trevor the Common Brown Trout.**

 **Graylings really are called the Lady of the Stream by anglers and they are rather pretty.**

 **wiki/The_Fly-fisher's_Entomology#/media/File:Fly-fishers_**

 **oOOo**

 **The 1910 book- _Minor Tactics of the Chalk Stream_ by G.E.M. Skues wold have upset a dry-fly purist- which given time, and enough access, Charles may well have become. The book influenced the widespread uptake of wet-fly fishing in Northern England and Scotland as it does allow for greater catch rates. This is because river trout/salmon, and other fish that can be lured with artificial flies feed 90% of the time at lower depths and only 10% of the time near the surface. Charles, I think is one for the artistry of the dry-fly casting and the greater skill demanded of landing a dry-fly lure well.**

 **wiki/Minor_Tactics_of_the_Chalk_Stream**

 **It does look like a pretty cool sport and I think it suits Charles as I see him- precise and dedicated.**

 **oOOo**

 **oOOo**

 **The Grantham Timeline and other info that follows is based on Charles naming his stuffed Trout Trevor-**

 **Here is how I have doctored the Life spans from the actual 1st and 2nd Barons of Grantham (Now called Earls of Grantham for my DA purposes) so that we can reasonably end up with Robert Crawley being the 7th Earl of Grantham from 1890- present in my fiction (1926)**

 **oOOo**

 **On the 4th Baron Trevor and his –contemporary in the real life - the 1st Baron Grantham- (the latter of whom I have renamed the Earl of Grantham for our DA purposes).**

 **Keep following the links through the various first born sons of these men to see where I am coming from- if you want to! I gave up after a couple of generations with the Barons of Grantham and from 1777- came up with all the fictional Earls that would time-in somehow with the 6th Earl and Violet marrying and then the JF canon dates for Robert- the 7th Earl. It has been an interesting rabbit hole to have fallen down for a while!**

 **oOOo**

 **These are the first pages I went to when looking if the UK peerage had any mention of a 'Trevor' line for our wee trouty!**

 **wiki/Robert_Hampden-Trevor,_1st_Viscount_Hampden**

 **wiki/Thomas_Robinson,_1st_Baron_Grantham**

 **The evidence that good ol' Baron Trevor (4th)- had a clandestine and subsequently hushed up 1st marriage to an unknown lady that will all lead Charles and Elsie to naming the future stuffed and pinned grayling a little more accurately described here:**

 **site/fenwickoflambton/jane-hornby-barkley/trevor-family-mystery**

 **It includes copies of the Pall Mall Gazette article Charles would have read and so based his naming of the trout on!**

 **oOOo**

 **Information on Clandestine Marriages Prior to the Marriage act of1753.**

 **Robert Hampden-Trevor probably married his mysterious first wife before 1740 in the Fleet Prison area of London- where clergy had been carrying out quick, cheap marriages for various reasons and without the need for banns to be read- claiming immunity from church law as the prison was seen to exist outside of the jurisdiction of the church – like Gretna Green really.**

 **wiki/Fleet_Marriage**

 **oOOo**

 **Rough timeline of births deaths and marriages of the 7 Earls of Grantham with other notes**

 **1695- Thomas Robinson born (in Yorkshire) D. 1770 aged 74 years. M. 1737. First Son (Thomas) born when he was 43 years old. Became 1st Baron Grantham in 1761 when title was created for him. Held title for 9 years. And began the conversion of Downton Abbey to a stately home.**

 **1738- Thomas Robinson, later 2nd Earl/Baron Grantham born. D. 1777 aged 39 years _(from 1777- these are mostly my changed dates for the fictional Earls of Grantham from now on)._ Became 2nd Baron/Earl Grantham in 1770 when aged 32 years. Held title for 7 years M. 1757. First born son (Thomas – Yes! Very original!- born when the 2nd Earl was 20 years old. 2nd Earl Completes building of Downton Abbey as stately home in his lifetime.**

 **1758- future 3rd Earl Grantham born. D. 1791 aged 33 years. Became 3rd Earl of Grantham in 1777 at age 19. Held title for 14 years. M. 1779. First Born son born when the 3rd Earl was 21 years old. Capitalized on increased farming production. Settled estate into a viable running agricultural concern.**

 **1761- (real historical date) 1st Baron of Grantham- title was created for Thomas Robinson (first listing here) – and which I have now relabelled to the Earl of Grantham for DA Canon Purposes. The Ist Earl/Baron held title for 9 years.**

 **1765- (real historical date) 1st Earl of Grantham/ Thomas Robinson (first listing above) succeeded the 4th Baron Trevor (AKA Robert Hampden-Trevor- AKA the 1st Viscount of Hampden) as the Post-Master General to the United Kingdom. _And this all forms Charles' very tenuous link between Trevor the Trout, the Baron Trevor, and the Earls of Grantham- and all because of that scandalous piece in the Pall Mall Gazette in 1884- when Robert Crawley's father was still 6_ _th_ _Earl and Charles was about to become Butler at Downton (1885- when Charles is a mere 29 years old- he was fast-tracked into the role by the 6_ _th_ _Earl- and had been Butler for 5 years before Robert takes over in 1890 as 7_ _th_ _Earl. Charles (39) has already been Butler for 10 years before Elsie arrives in 1895- when Lady Mary is nearly 5 years old, Edith 3-4 years old, and Sybil still an infant)._**

 **1770- 2nd Earl Grantham took over from his father until 1777**

 **1777- 3rd Earl took over until 1791.**

 **1780- Future 4th Earl Grantham born. D. 1812 aged 32 years while fighting in Napoleonic- Iberian Peninsula Wars under Lt. Gen Arthur Wellesley- (who was later Duke Wellington). Became 4th Earl in 1791 at age 11. Held title for 21 years- his guardian/ trustee-come all around scurrilous uncle squandered a lot of money from the estate whilst the 4th Earl was still a minor. 4th Earl took back power in 1798 when he came of age. Held title in total of 21 years. M. 1800. First born son born when the 4th Earl was 22 years old.**

 **1791- 4th Earl of Grantham took over until 1812 (7 years as a minor with a guardian)**

 **1802- Future 5th Earl of Grantham born (Robert's Grandfather). D. 1855 aged 53 years. M. 1820. First-born Son born when 5th Earl was 19 years old. 5th Earl held Title for total of 43 years – 8 years as a minor with another useless family Guardian/trustee who continues to mismanage estate's agriculture at this time, and got caught up in the Hudson/Clearing House Railway debacle and lost out when the bubble burst in the late 1840s. Money still flowing in from interest in northern coal industry and benefits of free trade to the continent keeps Downton with its head just above water and such that they can still put on quite a good show for the right circles of people. 5th Earl not adept with Agricultural side of the business though.**

 **1821- Future 6th Earl Grantham born. D. 1890 aged 69 (when Violet was 52 and Robert 24). M. 1856- to Violet. Became 6th Earl Grantham in 1855 at age 34 years. First born son (Robert) born when 6th Earl is nearly 45 and Violet is 28. 6th Earl tries to claw back the profitability of the land of the Estate and to work out the railway debacle. Brings Downton up to its glory days, but it all fails again when his interests in Cargo Fleet plummet due to an inability to provide coal to meet production targets. So, the Granthams are losing out on both ends of the production cycle and Robert is left having to marry into riches in order to save Downton. Robert does learn a bit about agriculture and people management/ diplomacy on the estate and beyond from his hard-working Father though. But, as we know- Robert also makes his share of poor business choices in the future and does not move the farming up to speed with the times quite quickly enough post WW1—but at least now we know now that fiscal mismanagement is in the training of the heirs for the Earldom of Grantham, and also possibly also in their genes!**

 **1838- Future Dowager Countess Violet Crawley born. _(I have made her 4 years older than DA Canon- so 89 in 1926 for my Chelsie wedding)._ M. 6th Earl in 1856 at just on 18 years of age, He was much older at 34 and married for love, not money, for Violet's family had little for her Dowry- but wanted to add the Grantham title to the family line. Violet was 28 before she had Robert in 1866. The Prince Kurragin indiscretion was in 1874 when Violet is about 36, 6th Earl 52, Robert 8 and Rosamund about 6- I figure the 6th Earl is busy working his tail off trying to save the estate. Violet was ill-prepared for marriage at such a young age with an older man anyway, and, having provided the required son an heir- I think she felt she was lacking attention and so she strayed when in St Petersburg.)**

 **1856- Violet and 6th Earl of Grantham Marry**

 **1856- Carson born onto the Estate to head Groom and his wife-**

 **1862- Elsie Hughes Born- Argyll, Scotland**

 **1862- Carson's mother dies (Charles aged 6)**

 **1866- Robert Crawley, future 7th Earl of Grantham born. (Violet 28, 6th Earl 44-5)**

 **1868- Rosamund Crawley (later Painswicke) born.**

 **1868- Carson's father dies (Charles 12 years old) . Taken on and kept in quarters by 6th Earl as junior hall boy. Potential seen in Charles by 6th Earl's loyal Butler. Together these men start grooming Charles up through the ranks- sending him for further education at Ripon Grammar and later send him to the continent for wines training so that he is ready to take over from old Butler by age 29. Charles left briefly for the stage from maybe 18-20 years of age- (so 1874- 76 ish ?) then returns to a small demotion at Downton, but the old Butler and 6th Earl pick up on moving him through the ranks quickly again. ( _Many thanks must go once again to Edward Carson- for his twist on Charles Carson's early chronology and movement into the role of Butler at Downton. My version relies heavily on his concepts of Charles early life on the estate. Although, I keep Charles birthdate the same as DA Canon where EC plumps for CC being a bit younger. I have played with the Dowagers age instead- and probably guessed quite differently with the older age for the 6th Earl. Anyway- read Edward Carson's DA fiction- he is my absolute favourite author in this wee FF world. )_**

 **1874- Violet in St Petersburg messing up badly while Robert is no doubt at Eton by now (from age 6 or 8 until 18).**

 **1884- The Gazette article and Charles last fishing trip prior to becoming Butler for the 6th Earl after old Butler kicks the bucket. Trevor the Trout is caught and undergoes intense taxidermy and board pinning procedures and is of course christened. Life gets rather too busy for Charles to go out dry-fly fishing anymore.**

 **1884-1888- Robert leaves Eton and goes to Oxford reading Philosophy. For 3-4 years.**

 **1890- 6th Earl dies at age 69. Having Spent 2 years intensively with Robert teaching him the ropes of running Downton (also utilised and previous college break times of Robert's for this). But 6th Earl still hands on an Estate in a perilous financial condition.**

 **1890- Robert becomes 7th Earl of Grantham at age 24 and marries Cora same year to save the estate. Charles Carson is 34 years old and 5 years in the top job. Robert proves reasonable at running it all successfully for most of the girls' childhoods through agriculture and business interests of the estate. Glory days of sparkling dinner parties abound. Carson is in his element and all is well with eh world at Downton Abbey. BUT! - As we know – it all goes horribly pear-shaped again for an Earl of Grantham post the Titanic sinking!**

 **1891- Lady Mary born – not a boy – what an eternal disappointment she will always feel herself to be!**

 **1892- a sickly baby- Lady Edith is born. The toddling Lady Mary seriously spits her dummy and never really recovers it to realise that it wasn't really Edith's fault that Mary is not actually the centre of the known universe, nor is Edith to blame for the fact that Lady Mary could never be the boy heir that was required to secure the estate's future – that is my theory of the haughty little minx's issues, anyway!**

 **1895-6- Lady Sybil- veritable saint upon this earth is born!**

 **1895- Elsie arrives at Downton as head housemaid (Charles 39 & Elsie 33- and feeling the boat to having a husband and family has sailed for her- the work and the money are better than farming) The legend of Chelsie Begins!**

 **1896- Elsie becomes Head Housekeeper- groomed by the previous housekeeper who is retiring rather than dropping of the twig whilst still in harness like the old butler did!**

 **So, that will do messy - sequence of dates- I think works out fairly well (I had to write in and repeat bits of it to make it all make sense to me. I hope it is reasonably readable for others) - – Anyway- it cannot be much worse than the choppy timelines in the real DA canon! And really, all of this was so that I could have a reason for the Trout to be named Trevor- which I believe may have been merely a bit of Jim Carter silliness on set in the first place!**

 **So, it is probably official- I _am_ as nutty as one of Mrs Patmore's Christmas fruit cakes! Anyway- it was time to clear up some canon dates in my DA canon re-jigged!**

 **oOOo**

 **Final note on Baron Trevor the Trout and his somewhat ignoble Lady Grayling- **

**As I don't think I will be writing the potential Somerset jaunt for Charles and Elsie in their retirement I will explain Elsie's take on naming the Grayling (Which I feel would actually be most appropriately caught somewhere in Argyll— if ever they should take a short trip to Scotland as well!)-**

 **-The 1st progeny of the Reverend Doctor John Trevor- (incumbent of Otterhampton parish church when his children were born) were twin girls named Elizabeth and Francis. I believe Elsie would have chosen Frances as the supposed name of the 1st Baron of Trevor's first wife via the hushed-up Fleet Prison marriage that potentially led to the birth of the Rev. Dr. Blah blah etc.– SO! - in my world- Charles' future stuffed and dried Kipper twin-set display will ever after be known as "Trevor and Frances"- or AKA "Baron Trevor d'Brown-Trout and Lady Frances Grayling of the Stream". Ta-Da!**

 ****Reviews are always welcomed with glee. :)**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow. :)**


	31. Chapter 31- Legerdemain

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 31- Legerdemain**

 **A/N:** **The honeymoon continues** …

 **Adult content and most assuredly NSFW.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **BorneToFlow ; )**

 **CECECECECE**

 _But is it really worth all the effort, Elsie? Surely, you could just make something up?"_

 _"No! You went to the effort to give Trevor the Trout a proper lineage. Ha!... I just had a thought, Charles! Perhaps you could write a book called 'Trout's Peerage' in your retirement!"_

 _Charles glances bemusedly towards his wife. "You know, …I am not entirely sure of your likeness to a lump of melting jelly anymore, Elsie. For I rather think you are much closer to being as nutty as one of Mrs Patmore Christmas fruit cakes!"_

 _"Oh! Thank you very much- from the man who has kept a dead fish in his office for forty odd years! I think perhaps_ _I_ _should be the one contacting Bedlam Hospital for you!... Anyway, I think Trevor the Trout's first true love deserves some respect after all these years, don't you?" Charles can only look at his wife somewhat agog. "Well…It could be fun, Charles," she says with a little wiggle of excitement running through her. "We could make it a reason to go on another little holiday somewhere down the track, don't you think? - For I have never been to Somerset- if that is where this trail leads us. Maybe you will finally catch your Lady of the Stream in a county other than Yorkshire- make it a bit of an angling trip for you too."_

 _That Elsie would latch onto this small and somewhat flippant piece of his past and find enjoyment in it for them to share astounds Charles. He shakes his head incredulously at her but smiles at the thought of traipsing about the nation with her and trying to name a salmon he has yet to catch. Retirement certainly needs not be such a dull prospect after all- not with Elsie by his side._

 **CECECECECE**

 **legerdemain (n.)***

 **Early 15c., from Middle French léger de main "quick of hand," literally "light of hand."**

Monday 31st May, 1926

Once they have finished breakfast, Charles wheels the trolley of dishes out into the floor lobby to be collected on the maids' rounds. He arranges through Jenson to have the room cleaning service occur whilst he and Elsie eat a late luncheon on the balcony of their room, and then he returns to their love rumpled bed. And such a decadence it is for both of them to stay all day lazing about, for never have either of them spent so long prone unless they have been quite ill and ordered to bedrest.

As much as Charles is not interested in learning about the outside world through the papers provided with their breakfast, Elsie requests that they avoid anything too heavy and depressing but at least try to relax into an uncommon, yet much needed, morning snooze by catching up on the latest serialised novels that the London Daily Mail and The Sphere have been publishing. They had both been keeping abreast of the latest fictions and engaged in many lively late night discussions over their shared sherry about what they think of various characters and what might be revealed next. Then they have debated the veracity of each other's claims that so-and-so must have done it, and exactly how, and why that person did it rather than any of the others. However, it still proves to be a delightfully new pleasure for them both, to read aloud to one another, for they have only engaged in sharing their reading pursuits in this decidedly more familial manner since their betrothal became official knowledge in the House and village beyond. Prior to that, it had always seemed less than appropriate for them to share literature late at night in this more intimate way when they were merely friends. However, with the new level of informality and physical closeness that they now share as a married couple in bed, Elsie unexpectedly finds that she must now kerb some of Charles' more distracting and, truth be told- decidedly irritating behaviours, as she reads the latest instalment of _The Black Abbot*_ to him.

Elsie ends up threatening to desist from reading to him aloud ever again if Charles insists upon reading ahead silently and at a greater pace, only to humph and ooh and ah about text Elsie has yet to verbalise. He is particularly voluble about the similarities between the cunning Thomas the footman in the story and their own troubled Footman-come-Under-Butler, and Charles wonders whether the former is due to meet his comeuppance in this little crime thriller. And then, ironically, given Charles' current garrulous tendencies, he waxes lyrical about how inappropriately chatty the Butler is with the understaff about the Chelford family upstairs. He states in all seriousness, "quite the little gossip and complainer that Glover is, isn't he? It is little wonder that the whole of Fossaway Manor is in an uproar about these strange goings on. How does he expect to kerb the worst excesses of the staff if he will not set a standard- and indeed sets the very _worst_ example- Huph! Denigrating the family in the middle of the servant's hall- I ask you!"

"Yes _ss_ , dear," Elsie draws out in somewhat bored reply, initially with a wry smile for her Carson being his usual intractable self, but then a little more impatiently when he will not drop the point about how unrealistic Wallace's whole description of what life in a great house is like. Soon she is thoroughly fed-up with Charles' various interruptions and takes a firmer stance with him so that she may actually be able to enjoy the story. Elsie finally convinces Charles that, as with their sitting room reading sessions prior to being married, he does not _actually_ have to follow the text with his own eyes, nor consistently stick his big Gaul-like nose into the line of her vision, nor interrupt the flow of reading with comments she has already heard from him about this particular serial. After a minor amount of grumbling, he acquiesces to her demands and soon finds that he is, once more, quite enchanted by the soothing lilt of Elsie's voice as she reads steadily and with lovely inflection for him. This then drives his compulsion to be in even closer and more constant physical contact with her, leading him on more than one occasion to chase soft kisses underneath her chin in order to feel the vibration of her vocal chords beneath his tender lips. Which then leads him on an increasingly determined path across her décolletage and under the collar of Elsie's bathrobe to nibble and lick at her perfectly pale and smooth shoulders.

Elsie is wrapped up in the story by now, and as lovely as Charles' attentions are, she is determined to finish this particularly intriguing episode of Edgar Wallace's latest crime thriller, and so before long, she clips Charles briskly about the ear with the folded paper to pull him back into line.

He grumbles excessively this time, but eventually settles back on the pillows and contents himself with gazing lovingly up at his wife and stroking over her head with his fingers to slightly untangle her love mussed hair, delighting at the sheen of some of her silvery streaks glancing light between his fingers as it waterfalls over his hand. Her rolling cadences lull him, and he feels contented - full of food, and cosy and relaxed in a way that he has not experienced since before his mother passed away. Before long his hand feels too heavy to keep rhythmically lifting it through the weight of her locks and his palm drops onto the velveteen downiness her firm shoulder. Gravity and soothing lethargy do the rest of the work as he slides down into peaceful rest with his broad hand settled firmly upon the soft pillow of her stomach.

Now towards the end of the piece, Elsie's eyes are glazing. The slowing of Charles' stroking of her hair, coupled with the sounds of her own hushed voice calms her to the point of stumbling over half-remembered exchanges from her busy days at work rather than interpreting into speech the printed words in front of her. As she feels Charles slipping into a peaceful nap, she jolts awake enough to place the folded paper aside and snuggles down under the weight of his protective arm to reclaim a part of her lifetime's worth of lost hours of rest.

CECECECECE

Seemingly too soon, Charles is blinking his eyes open- fully rested at least, but not quite aware of where he is for a moment, yet feeling deeply secure with wherever he happens to be, anyway. Once his brain starts registering his surroundings more formally he sees Elsie's head resting peacefully on the pillow beside him, her fine features in tranquil profile. She looks much younger and smoother of skin than he can recall seeing her through these last many years of trials and dramas at the Abbey- not since before the war, he realises. _Serene._ A dreamy smile steals across his face as he realises that she too has changed so very much in these last forty-eight hours- and it truly does become her. He watches her quietly and focuses on the feeling of his hand rising and falling with the measure of her breathing below her ribs. Her hand rests atop his and her body heat permeates her gold wedding band, and infuses him with her incarnate love for him even as she sleeps. His new and almost unaccountable level of happiness overwhelms and tickles him to his core once more. Tingling playfulness overrides his almost equal desire to stay cocooned in this space of hallowed harmony with his wife.

 _My wife!_ His mind reels just at the thought of it. Charles still feels such a thrill that this turn of phrase is one he has actually lived long and well enough to be able to use in reference to himself at all. A joyous smile breaks over his face for his thoughts of her and of his freedom to now love her so devotedly and fully.

Ever so gently, Charles removes his hand from beneath the steady warm blanket of Elsie's own hand and reaches across her for their silver sixpence which still rests solid and real on the bedside table from when he deposited it there for safe keeping last night as he dived headlong into loving his wife with everything he is made of. Charles rolls and interleaves the coin across the top of his knuckles a couple of times, becoming more fluid with the movement he has not practised for many a year, but was really quite adept at from the few sleight of hand movements he incorporated into slapstick jokes he performed with Griggs half a century ago. Ever the astute observer, Charles had learned much from the small travelling magic acts and card flourishers that often traversed the same stages he danced across in his youth. He is quite pleased it has come back to him so easily. In fact, that fluttering excitement that has graced his hands so regularly since he asked Elsie to marry him, and most markedly of these last two days, only seems to aid his dexterity in picking up these old skills again. He runs through a few other slick vanishing coin tricks he last used when the young ladies of the house were quite young, and only then as a last resort to distract and settle them if they had come across him when they were particularly upset.

oOOo

And, although Charles has no mind for any of this in this moment of quiet preparation for loving his Elsie once again, the truth is he had always begged off using these old stage skills too often with the young ladies, using the classic conjuror's foil of flawless misdirection to convince them that the magic only ever occurred when absolutely needed- to remind someone that all was not so bad with the world. And Charles, not being the world's _absolute_ worst liar - at least not when it may be necessary for a far greater good, managed to convince them that he himself was no more in control the magic than they were. But, his coup de maîtré** of subterfuge was in making them believe that the wonder could only ever occur in the presence of children who are filled with the promise of the world and who could find ways to be happy again and be polite and behave in a proper and kind manner towards others. And, of course, it almost went without saying that other adults must never know of it, or else, all the cares and worries that those grown-ups sometimes have to carry would scare the magic away. So, apart from the odd occasions when the young ladies were upset or misbehaving enough to require this form of redirection, and that Charles was actually free enough to indulge them privately, he managed to keep any hint his dubious past on the halls concealed until Griggs had tracked him down.

Sadly, young Lady Mary was always too quick a wit to be fooled by his stories and sleight of hand movements for very long and she soon was asking him to teach her how it all worked. 'Mores the pity' _,_ Charles has sometimes thought- for, Lady Mary, to a far greater degree than Lady Edith or Lady Sybil, has always had a more obvious need to learn the patience and kindness and politeness towards others that Charles had tried to imbue his nascent fatherly-like lessons with. He has never fully fathomed why this lesson has proved so difficult for his Guinea-a-Minute favourite to learn and live by. Perhaps she had always wanted to hold all of the coins to begin with and yet never realised that, in life- no matter what their station or status –no one person ever really can- not even the inimitable Lady Mary Crawley.

oOOo

Roll. Flick. Cover. Flourish. Reveal.

Pause.

As Elsie sleeps, Charles kneels up carefully beside her. He rolls their silver sixpence across the back of his hand once more, then flicks it to conceal it in his palm between his thumb and forefinger, he cups his hands slightly away from her and skims the edges of each up her body towards her face- a feathers breadth away from her pale soft breast that has become slightly exposed as her robe has rucked up in her slumber. The backs of his hands steal fluidly towards her face, covering the treasure of their love. But not for long.

 _Now!_ Charles thinks joyously. _Finally,_ _this long buried and rather pointless skill is set to thrill my single greatest, my most appreciative audience_. For, his idea from earlier that day on how he might more creatively love his wife in the manner in which she seems to respond best has now happily coalesced with his increased capacity to act upon it. The vision stands clear and poised in the wings of his mind. Charles feels rippling excitement course through him, but he holds- perfectly still- Poised- before making a slow, silent and mesmerising entrance, ready to dance and sing his love across Elsie's skin once more.

In a silent curlicue, he swirls his hands above her restful face. She stirs, perhaps detecting his scent, perhaps feeling a whisper of air wave across her skin. She blinks blearily awake and a beauteous smile rises dreamily over her face as the strange apparition of Charles wearing an intent yet quirky expression on his face materialises before her eyes. Charles watches the enchantment in her eyes and revels in the fact that it is for him alone- and that he really has no need to perform for her at all, or to act any differently or be anything other than who he is in order to please her. Still, there are nuances to him- the secrets of who he is- that he wants to reveal – and only to her. He wants her to know who he has been and how all of it in some way drives him to love her as he does now. With a sudden flourish of movement, he presents and displays his seemingly empty hands to her, then firmly clicks his free thumb and forefinger. Her eyes startle wider at the sound so close to her face, and then her eyelids flicker with hazy confusion at him as he slows and silently dances his hands in front of her face to draw the coin from its secret hiding place. Elsie stares in sleep-dazed wonder when, as if from thin air, Charles fluidly reveals their sixpence before her very eyes.

Pause.

In the pause.

In that silent wonder- their whole love appears.

Her heart bubbles up with giddy joy for him. _My man._

"What on Earth are you doing, Charles?" Elsie is powerless to prevent the giggle escaping her lips and at the sight of Charles maintaining his intense, almost dark and hooded gaze upon her. Her smile broadens. _My lovely man- still full of surprises!_

His rich voice booms out as he lightly straddles the top of Elsie's legs in order to face her fully. "For the moment, Charles is but a member of the chorus- waiting in the wings, My Love, for it is _ **I**_!" he flings his arms out expansively to present himself to her "Carson the Magnificent!- who has come to weave his special magic upon the body of his beautiful and faithful assistant, Elsie, this very… _very_ fine morning." And throughout it all, Charles performs another swift display of coin vanishing trickery- across his knuckles, into his palm.

Roll. Flick. Cover. Flourish. Reveal.

He draws the missing coin from behind her left ear.

Pause.

Elsie is almost immediately wiggling with excitement, and she fairly hoots with child-like glee at what may be in store for her. _By God – this life is such sweet pleasure!_ Her imagination runs wild, and her breathing slows and deepens to a light panting of anticipation as she joins in with Charles's fun.

"Well, well… Carson the Magnificent," she breathes out, "as your faithful assistant, perhaps you might care to explain some of your methods as we proceed- that I may better… _aid_ your performance."

Maintaining a majestic stage-like presence that has served him in his work both on and off the stage, Charles continues his patter along with the roll, flick, cover, flourish and reveal of the coin from another area of her body- this time from the crook of her elbow.

"Oh, that was always to be part of the act, you will find, lovely Elsie, for I intend to tell you _all_ of the ways that I may bring you into rapturous appl-… well… bring you into raptures at the very least," he grins puckishly. And he runs the coin on edge up over her exposed shoulder, her neckline, along her jaw to her chin before drawing the coin over the bumps and dips of her reddened lips that sit slightly ajar in stilled wonder at her man. He traces a path up over her nose and finishes his opening patter as he brings the coin to rest flat at the centre of her brow- causing her eyes to cross ever so slightly and in the most endearing fashion as she tries to focus on it. "Prepare to be amazed! -Oh pretty Elspeth," he announces boldly, "as I bring you to the dizzying heights of purest ecstasy through the power of my voice and the magic imbued within this small silver coin alone." Then his voice drops to an unfathomably low and sultry timber as he moves to hover on all fours above her and he bends to speak with mesmerising secrecy right into her ear. "And not once will any part of my person touch upon the clearest, … _sweetessst_ , and most obvious path to your bliss that we have both yet found," and with that assurance, he licks the pointed tip of his tongue excruciatingly slowly around the peaked tragus of her ear, "my dear…. dear, Mrs Carson" he finishes in the lowest whisper she has ever heard rumble past his lips.

 _Dear God! What this man can do to me!_ Elsie squeezes her legs tightly together as her instant desire threatens to overwhelm her and see her throwing her arms around Charles to draw him hard and long onto her body. She releases a tiny mewling sound from the back of her throat in anticipation. Elsie is wide-eyed with joyful want for the treats she knows are in store for her when she places herself within Charles's steady and loving hands, which are guided so dexterously by his incredibly fertile imagination. She holds herself completely still in desperate restraint and sweet expectancy- for she knows her man far better now and has experienced exactly what he is capable of in his precise devotions to her yearnings. He kisses lightly from her ear and across her brow to retrieve the coin from the centre of her forehead between his pursed lips, and then he runs its edge on the remaining short path towards her other ear. And now, Elsie really has no doubt that he will achieve what he is setting out to do for her- and probably a lot faster than even _he_ imagined would be possible.

She manages to gasp out, "You seem mightily sure of yourself, oh Magnificent Carson."

In her heightened and distracted state, Charles easily secretes the coin from his lips into his other hand. She turns her head slightly to see him reveal and start rolling the coin across the top of his knuckles and back again near her head on the pillow. But then he nuzzles her head to the side once more in order to lick a fine line around the auricle of this ear as he murmurs, "That's 'Carson _the_ Magnificent' thank you very much," as he continues to nibble around her ear, making her hum like a bee around flowers in the thick mid-morning light, "and it is not so much that I am sure of myself, oh lovely Elsie …as it is a fact that I am _absolutely_ sure of  you _,_ my sweetest love…hmm… and sure of the many _…many_ ways you seem to be able to find and to show your …hmmm" as he captures her soft earlobe between his lips and briefly nips at it, feeling the minute downy hairs of it tickling his lips as she groans once more for him "…your keenes _ss_ t delight. Els- _ss_ iee." His steamy breath in her ear sends a shiver down the entire length of her body when he draws her name out that way.

Elsie moans her agreement, and her muscles clench low and tight as a fist around her building heat. "Well…" she breathes out- feeling most decidedly hot and bothered now, "do tell me the secrets of your mysterious art, oh Carson the Magnificent".

And with that, Charles draws himself up and kneels above her legs once more- his hair all askew and his bathrobe falling open across his broad chest. He is utterly charming, and he has Elsie completely engaged in the allure of his high-spirited love. She reaches up to twirl his rakish silver forelock around her fingers, and she cannot hold her joy in any longer. Elsie giggles with youthful exuberance for her man- her most astoundingly creative, and now quite magical, poet-lover.

oOOo

With the flourish of two sharp tweaks with either hand, Charles straightens down the sides of his robe.

Roll. Flick. Cover. Flourish. Reveal.

The coin is drawn from out of his hair that he has just smoothed back into some semblance of his usual impressive and clipped level of personal grooming.

Roll. Flick. Cover. Flourish. Reveal.

The coin rests at the tie of Elsie's lightly secured robe.

He rolls the lengths of the ties around his forefingers then briskly flicks and snaps the slip knot open with such speed that the coin flips up into the air and he catches it with one hand before it falls. Elsie is delighted, and she feels giddy with glee. _My very own personal magic show!_ Charles is, understandably, quite chuffed that this last move worked at all as he had imagined that it might in the brief moments before he actually tried it, and also for the fact that he is still fleet enough of hand to even catch the coin! A huge grin spreads across his face, initially for his grand success, but soon after for the delightful vision of Elsie lying exposed before him- pink and flushed with happy desire- and her eyes shining with quite some amusement at his playful boyish pride.

With a flourish, he rolls the coin across his knuckles and back once more. Elsie allows herself to be mesmerised by it all- for she knows there is really not much mystery to the various tricks and illusions Charles is enacting with their coin- especially given his ability to hide a whole cricket ball in his oversized hands if he should choose to. However, she is more than captivated by his charismatic attentions to her and his obvious cheerfulness at being able to please her in such an unusual way. And so, Elsie foregoes consciously trying to work out how he manages such feats with their precious six-pence.

Charles deep, stage quality voice resounds once more, "And where would the lovely Elsie predict our precious coin will appear next upon her _very_ person?" and he cocks a questioning eyebrow her way. Elsie is too excited to answer and just motions her currently clueless state with a shoulder shrug and a slight movement of her head. She chews at her bottom lip in an entirely new way for Charles, as this time it is her broad smile that fights against this commonplace restriction of hers. _I don't care,_ her eyes tell him, _Anywhere—Absolutely anywhere is wonderful!_

Carson the Magnificent continues his sonorous announcements to his adoring audience, "Will it appear on top of one of her delightfully full and blushed breasts?" and he presents the coin briefly between two fingers on its rolling path over his knuckles, then drops it into a hold with his curled index finger and rolls it on edge up along her cleavage as his finger unfurls to its full length over the top of the narrow warmed metal – so beguilingly close to that most perfect of all resting places. Then he recaptures the coin between two knuckles and trails it up further. Slower. Dragging it across to his intended destination. Much lower he intones "or will it alight upon one of her strong, smooth shoulders that respond _so_ well to tiny nibbles and kisses from her most smitten husband's hungry mouth?" he finishes in a lustful whisper, and Elsie wriggles beneath his tender restriction of her movements and moans her willingness for _just_ that to be the case. And in her distracted state, Charles continues with the roll and flick, cover, flourish and reveal of their coin, as he barrels onwards with the show "OR!-" he booms out, "will it be found hidden in her…. NAVEL!" And he scoots backwards suddenly and dives his head towards her belly- turning her heightened desire in a single instant to a hearty guffaw at all of his silliness. With his teeth, he retrieves the coin he actually did deposit in there when Elsie was distracted by her excitement and his deft flourish of hand movements above her. Charles quickly grasps the coin back in his hand again while Elsie has her head thrown back as she chuckles then he returns to act most ridiculously like a ravenous beast- growling and lavishing fast and hungry, wet kisses and light nips across her whole belly until she is breathless and laughing quite uncontrollably. And by now Charles is smiling against her tummy for her happiness and is fast becoming quite enchanted by this whole magical display of hers too. Initially, because of Elsie's bright and youthful laughter, but soon after, it is because, from his position gazing up over the planes of her stomach, he can see the jiggling weight of her breasts. _Oh! Sweet happiness!_ Charles thinks. Their free movement weaves its own special enchantment over him, and he is drawn, almost hypnotically, towards them.

Shuffling up into his kneeling position once more, Charles runs the coin up Elsie's still undulating belly as she pants to catch her breath. The hard, fine metal tickles her, but in a decidedly different manner, as the inexorability of its path towards her breast becomes clear, and the dark and lustful look in Charles' eyes draws a delighted gasp from her mouth.

"Oh..Yes _s_...Char _rlles"_ she purrs to him.

Charles' hands start weaving their magic above her.

Roll. Flick. Cover.

The backs of his fingers brush like feathers over her nipples, then he turns to rub them each lightly in the centres of his palms - steadily broadening the circular motion out to the edges of his hands with gradually increasing pressure, bringing them into tight and tingling peaks while Elsie moans her approval and arches slightly towards him.

 _Delightful._

Flourish.

The coin is shifted from where it hides in the grooved space of his thumb webbing as he squeezes harder into her soft plumpness and she takes in a sharp breath. He has all of her rapt attention.

Reveal.

He pushes the penny up between his index and middle fingers.

Roll.

He moves the coin rhythmically across the knuckles of that hand, and her eyes are drawn into following its mesmerising path. The sleight is all too easy as he takes her by surprise again and makes her gasp with delight as he dives to her other breast and his tongue takes over from that hand, first circling out wide in long loving strokes over her pale soft and pillowy skin before drawing closer in ever diminishing circles. Relentlessly closer. Closer- nearer to her stiffened nipple.

"Mohr! Oh! Charles..yes _ss…"_ And her hips start to undulate slowly in that fascinating dance of her desire for him.

But he resists his own keenest desire- and does not take that dusky pink and perfect bud into his mouth- not just yet- for Charles knows the worth of keeping an audience in some suspense. And so he circles his way out over her breast again even as he maintains that roll of the coin across his hand that rests heavily over her other breast- no longer squeezing into her- just fluttering sprightly sensation over the top of Elsie's most intense cravings.

"Hgrrh…" Elsie rumbles her frustration low in her throat- but part of her cannot help the small tweak of a knowing smile gracing her lips- as she discerns what her man is up to and can only marvel at his extreme levels of self-control. _Thank God for his life lived in the quiet attendance of others!_ For Elsie most surely knows that she is reaping the benefits of his strict training now.

Roll. Flick. Cover.

The coin disappears as he runs his hands up Elsie's arms and pushes the robe completely off her shoulders and then guides her arms out if its loose sleeves, leaving them draped over the pillow above her head. Carson the Magnificent pauses while Charles the man peeks out from the wings to gaze longingly and lovingly upon Elsie's elongated form as this position exposes all of her lithe and muscular strength that lies beneath the softness of her curves. _Stunning._

"What's next Carson…" she breathes out eagerly, "Tell me what happens next."

Snapping immediately back into character his voice resounds "You want _Me!_ Carson the Magnificent!- to reveal _ALL_ of the secrets of my craft?" Elsie nods vigorously with bright wide eyes. "We-ell…I am not sure _that_ would serve _my_ best interests in the longer term, my lovely assistant, … but perhaps …later … I will slowly" he bends over her to kiss softly in between his next words- once to one collarbone, and then into the hollow of her neck and finally across to the other collarbone "…very…very…slowly…describe some of the finer…most secret delights I have discovered upon my fair Lady Elsie's body these last days.. Hmm?" he raises a questioning eyebrow above his knowing and lust fuelled eyes. Elsie's legs hitch together to hold tight to her burgeoning hot need and succeeds in adding a painfully delicious friction to the heady mixture of sensations she is trying to contain.

"Oh yes, Charles… _pleasse_ do..." and her smile just sparkles with life for him and what she _knows_ he will do for her- with his voice... with his touch… with all of his love. _In time…all in his own good time._ She is ecstatic and fairly writhing in her expectancy.

In a flash, Carson moves. With a quick spin onto one knee, he lifts away from Elsie and plants a foot on the ground near the bed. With his back to her, he pulls the tie on his own robe open and silently fishes the single yellow rose from the gowns pocket that he had carefully secreted there from there breakfast trolley earlier. Now with both feet planted firmly on the ground, he rises to his full proud height.

Roll. Flick. Cover.

The rose and the coin stay hidden from Elsie's view.

Flourish.

In a single deft movement he swings his magnificently naked body around to face her as he swoops the white robe from his shoulders, spins it out wide above his head like a some sort oversized angel matador and the heady air around them slows the gown's floating path out over Elsie's supine form as he gently shrouds her in the next stage of this mysterious ritual to her pleasure. Elsie gasps and giggles in sweet surprise once more, her hands fluttering and almost clapping in the thrill of her excitement - for as much as she knows where all of this will end- she has so far been at a loss as to work out what Charles' next move may be, or the exact path he will take to get them to their desired destination. She senses he is ad-libbing more and more of this performance as he goes along but she is utterly enchanted by it all. _My man! My beautiful sparkling man. All of this! Just for me!_

Reveal.

His hand weaves before her eyes again. Empty. Then all at once full with the symbol of their love.

Roll.

He rests the penny atop his thumbnail wedged just beneath his curled index finger.

Flick.

The coin spins high into the air, and from beneath the edge of Elsie's new white shroud, his right-hand swings up to catch it in mid-air.

Cover.

Flourish.

His hands knit another spell before her eyes.

The coin vanishes.

And a single yellow rose appears in its place.

Elsie's smile and her eyes grow wide with astonishment.

"A rose…of happiness, and joy- For the lovely Elsie," his dulcet tones enthral her.

With a slick twist of his fingers, he twirls the soft velvet petals across that nipple that still aches for his kiss. Elsie squeaks in delight, then moans long and low as he circles the flower outwards in an expanding bloom across her reddened breast. Then he draws it in a long line over the hollow of her neck, her chin, kisses it to her lips, strokes it softly over her high cheekbone and then across her brow to place its stem behind her ear to properly adorn her tresses that lay splayed out upon the pillow around her glowing face. Her arms are still stretched long above her head whilst underneath the covers of his robe, her body stretches out, completely open to all that her man has to give.

Roll.

The coin reappears- cartwheeling expertly across his knuckles.

" _Mohr…_ Oh please more…show me more…"

"Oh indeed, lovely Elsie. For Carson the Magnificent has much… _much_ more that he can reveal.

Flick. Cover. Flourish.

And with that he grasps the edges of her own robe spread out beneath her as he jumps heavily onto the edge of the bed with both knees, bouncing her whole frame up slightly as he whips the fluffy drape out from under her.

Reveal.

The momentum flips her onto her front and Elsie squeals in shock before she crumples into a fit of joyful laughter at his outrageous trickery from underneath the cover of his oversized robe.

"Charles Carson- you silly devil."

"Carson the Magnificent balks at the name ' _Silly'…_ he bellows out., and then finishes more comically "although the Devil part is still yet to be disproved…" and he cannot help but grin impishly back at Elsie's face turned towards him- tears of happiness in her radiant eyes and looking oh, so small underneath that huge ball of cuddly fluffiness. _Adorable!_

Roll.

Flick.

Cover.

Flourish.

He sweeps his robe off her body – swinging it once more in an outlandish manoeuvre around his head and shoulders a couple of times before tossing it aside like a summer cloud caught upon a swift breeze, letting it fall and slide across the parquetry area of their suite in a swirl of reckless abandon.

Reveal.

Elsie is still giggling whole-heartedly as Charles the man steps out from the wings and moans his approval at the magical sight laid out before him. Elsie is blushed pink with warmth and merriment, striving to catch her breath. She has raised herself up onto her elbows to gaze back upon her most delightful and surprising lover. Charles sees her full reddened breasts, nipples still stiffened with excitement, despite their most recent jovial turn in the bed, and they hang full and flushed towards the sheets. The draw that this sweet delight has on his wanting tongue is a painful thirst that he knows he must quench soon. _It will be best to draw all these theatrics to a close,_ he thinks.

He straddles the backs of her thighs.

His knees.

Her hips.

Roll.

She feels him close to the sweetest of finales. Wants him closer still.

Flick.

He flips the coin into the air again, catches it in his palm.

Cover.

He turns it down onto the small indent at the base of her spine and just above all that wonderful flesh that he longs to fondle and squeeze.

Flourish.

His broad hands now clasp both of her soft and delightfully plump cheeks, and he swirls his fingertips outwards to tickle along the sides of her hips.

Reveal.

He laughs once out loud and makes the decidedly gratified declaration, "Would you believe it? Its 'tails,' lovely Elsie!"

And they cannot help but chuckle together like silly children at this news.

But once again, he turns their loving on the very edge of a coin- from light-hearted jollity to sinuous, tense and stringing want.

Charles bends forward to take the coin between his pursed lips once more then slowly draws it up the length of Elsie's spine, bumping and scraping lightly over every ridge and dip and soon eliciting that lovely moaning sound from her lips as her hips press down into the mattress, creating a delightful pressure on her womanhood as her back arches reflexively to shy away from the ticklish sensation running up her sensitive spine. Elsie's head drops down onto one of her forearms, and her other hand reaches to clasp onto the clear stemmed yellow rose that has fallen from her hair onto the white pillow.

"Oh..Char _r_ les Char _r_ les," she purrs,"tell me what's next. Talk to me, my Charles. Tell me how you like to love me."

And at her command, the coin drops from his mouth into his hand. Carson the Magnificent disappears, and Charles, the man - _her man_ \- steps to centre stage.

"Oh, Elsie,… my _very_ lovely Elsie..." he groans out in a guttural rumble as he drops his full weight down across her back, making her gasp once more and squirm and grind her hips back up against his arousal that now sits so perfectly in the cleft of her buttocks as his heavy thighs press solidly into the backs of hers and his foot runs down her calf as he lengthens out fully over her. His hands run up her sides, brushing past the plum curves of her breasts that press out slightly from underneath her. His palms press firmly over the lengths of her arms above her head. With one last roll and flick of their little six-pence, he brings it to rest on the back of her left hand and covers it with his great big palm. Their fingers instinctively interleave and curl into each other- their grip tightening along with their growing arousal.

" _Mohr…"_ she moans for him. "Oh _…My_ Charles," she whispers lustfully, "Tell me everything you love. Let me hear you, my man. Let me feel you."

Charles groans heavily with want into her neckline and starts kissing and nipping into the long sinewy muscles there. She loves the solid weight of him covering her. It does not hurt. It feels primal. Safe. His skin is _so_ hot. She loves that he is burning so brightly- just for her. His breath is close and humid and his voice a lustful low thunder in her ears- like it is from somewhere miles away- as if it has travelled a long way through the depths of a dark, dark night, and yet he is so very, very close to her right now.

 _Enchanting!_

"Elsie, you are so… _so_ beautiful. I love your laughter. I love how lively you are. So full of _life_. I love how excited you get. I love you. I love you _so_ very, very much. I love to see you stretched out so lithe and strong before me—all peach blushed and eager. I love it when you writhe in ecstasy for me- For _Us_. All curves and stormy softness. So free Elsie–love. So beautifully free. Majestic and beautiful you are. My Elsie. My lady." He finishes with a sultry chanting whisper of her name as he moves and rubs himself over her. "Elsie…Els- _ssie…"_ Like a heady carnal prayer.

He lavishes every patch of her neck and ears that he can reach with searing kisses until she is panting in her want and her hips are rhythmically rolling into the bed and up again into his hardness to try and find the friction she is after from him, and yet knowing he will not cave into giving it to her. _No,… not this time. And such sweet, sweet torture it all is!_

He slowly lifts his weight off her and gently motions for her to roll onto her back once more, before straddling her legs on his knees again. With his unashamed lust shining brightly, his dark eyes roam over her body as he takes in the full spectacle of his Elsie- naked and limber and lovingly exposed before him. _Such trust. Such Love. So very lovely!_ He licks hungrily along his bottom lip. _God! I want to see her soar!- Right here- in front of me. Please God, please let me have that._

"Don't stop talking Charles. Don't stop," Elsie breathes hotly- reaching out for him- running her hands heavily up and down his thighs.

"Well then, let's take it from the top, shall we?" And he smiles that little quirky close-lipped smile that makes Elsie just want to kiss him rapidly all over his silly big head- so absolutely adorable it is – _Cheeky_ , she realises- _he is absolutely cheeky- the big silly rascal_ _!_ And she especially loves that smile when it is so incongruously mismatched with the dark lustful intent of his eyes. Elsie realises she is quite wild for his eyes and his smiles as well as his voice. _My man._ And she sighs out as she reaches up to lovingly ruffle his hair, then smooths it back from his face- just because she can, and because it just feels so good and free to rumple up and love this magnificent old Carson in this way.

Elsie giggles for the sheer love of him again and his smile just gets bigger. She cannot help herself- the mix of joviality and searing desire is all somewhat bizarre and entirely intoxicating. Elsie suddenly moves her palms from his head down to his big belly and peals out a quick drum-roll across it for him to continue with his grand finale on her own body. She laughs uncontrollably again at the briefly shocked look on his face and then at his own loud and bubbling roll of laughter for their youthful fun and games- just before his lustful resolve overtakes them both and he dives down onto her neck again to suck heavily at her supple skin, instantly making her moan with hot desire again.

" _Mooohr!_ …Oh ….Talk to me, Charles. I love your voice, my man" Elsie breathes out heavily as she squeezes her legs tighter again so that the energy that is writhing through her whole body all drives towards her hot core and is suspended there by the invisible threads of their shared lust.

"I can give you that, lovely Elsie." He moans out as he lifts up slightly on his elbows above her. He keeps his tones very low, and the pace of the whole show slows now. The grander theatrics are now dispensed with and the poetry he feels for her taking over. "I can tell you _all_ the wonders that I see, pretty Elspeth."

Charles has had their six-pence hidden again in his large hand.

Roll.

Flick.

Cover.

He places it into the palm of her left hand that lies open and resting near her head. They hear the light click of metal on metal as it slides home to her safe keeping. Charles wants to hold it there with her as she fully takes flight. He wants to hold on and be right there with her- by her side- the whole way. He will not let go. He lays his right palm open onto hers and then he locks their hands together with the intertwining of their fingers.

No flourish.

No spectacular reveal.

Just them.

oOOo

"Oh, I will tell you of such wonders I have seen and touched and tasted in my exotic travels over your body, my lovely Elsie." He ducks his head towards her neck again and breathes steamily into her neck. "Of your high peaked cheekbones that blush so prettily when we are out eating in public, and you know that I am actually thinking of you naked in our bed. I see the heat rising up from your delightfully supple neck, and I imagine my tongue as it is now," and he kisses long and hot onto her, "hmmm… chasing that prickling heat all the way up under your ears." And as he speaks his kisses follow the path of the lovemaking story he is weaving upon her skin- increasing the height of her every sensation and desire for what will be arriving a mere split second later. In that gap of blissful anticipation, she moans all of her want and approval for just these things to occur- and he does not disappoint her.

The story unfolds. He nibbles at her sensitive earlobes again. And tells her of its tiny wonders. "And I have felt the finest downy softness of your earlobes dance over my slightly opened lips and heard you sing your heated song for me, Elsie." And he moans himself now as he recalls exactly what it all reminds him of. "And Elsie, I have discovered it to be as delicate and as sensitive as the light skin that I have kissed and then fondled with my fingertips- just at the top of your thighs when I am so …mmmm….s _oo …_ very close to all of your...o _ooh..._ lush womanliness" and he whispers impossibly lower and deeper into her ear, "so close that I can actually smell your heat and sweetness in the air around me."

"Yesss…Mmmm, o _hh…_ Charles ye _ss_ …" Elsie moans quietly for him.

"And when I draw that little lobe it into my mouth…" which is exactly what he does, "and I lick it lightly with the _very_ tip…" he clips the word out high and then slows down, "…of my tongue," she gasps at the sweet feeling as it drives another spark of heat low within her. And his lustful and rumbling voice is making her heart thud hard within her chest. His way with words enchants her as much as any of his swift hand tricks with their coin did before- even more so."...Oh, Elsie.. it feels as silky and as plump as your …your luscious… red… lips…" Charles sucks her earlobe, hot and wet, one more time into his mouth as Elsie's hips move and grind sinuously beneath the weight of him on top of her. "… Your delightfully full and red lips… that when you are out with me… and you nibble at that little part of your bottom lip between your teeth… sucking at it lightly…" And at his mention of it, she cannot help but hold onto that part of her lip with her teeth as she tries to stifle an even louder groan and stop herself from rolling him off her so that she can get at him and ravish all of his skin herself… but she won't, for it is even more exquisite to wait for him to come to her in this moment – so she bites hard into that lip that he so loves. "Mmmm.. Els… I actually have to restrain myself from leaning over the table and capturing that poor, tortured little patch of pink velvet silk in my own mouth and caressing it … _juusst_ like this…" and he moves to her mouth to show her just how he can soothe it with his kisses and his tongue. And soon they are groaning their hot need into each other's mouths.

"Tell me more Charles," she gasps out into his mouth. "Tell me more. Oh God, please tell me more."

Charles moves again, to finally kiss across those delightfully defined high cheekbones of hers and up to her eyes that have blinked shut at his close approach and in sweet suspense for his next words and deeds. He brushes his closed lips over her eyelids. She can feel his soft breath like a hot summer breeze across her lashes. Calm.

"And your eyes, my sweet,… they are so blue and changeable that I am endlessly enthralled by the visions I see in them. Sometimes they are dark and deep blue as the ocean with your desire… sometimes they are flashing forth with your ire- all passionate and intelligent and sparky and fierce… I love your eyes my Elsie-love- that show all of your strength and softness and everything I love about you… But mostly I love them bright blue in the sunlight- when they reflect all of the light of you- all of the love that you have… and I remember their brightness on our day at the beach … so very clearly- every time I see them flash that certain colour- I remember that day, Elsie" he keeps whispering to her,"…that day when you were so …happy and looked so …very young again… even though you said, we were getting on… you were young for me… because your smile was so bright and wide and free…" and he huffs a small laugh "… and you were still ribbing me, even as … you took my hand and held me like you never had before… and …and it…it filled me with such _hope_ … that day, Elsie-love…hope for something more…" He stops his speech now and his slow rubbing of his lips across her eyelids, and she flutters them open for him, and he gazes right into their depths and says even more quietly and with clear conviction, "I love your eyes, my Elsie… I love it when you smile… the light of all my world that truly matters shines when you shine your happiness through them. You can rib me until the very end of our days if I can only see the smile in your eyes when you do." And she cannot help but smile the brightest of her smiles when she hears him say that, and she reaches her free hand to his face and closes the gap between their lips once more.

"Oh, Charles. My dear, sweet man," she whispers heavily into his mouth… I only feel so happy when I am with you… My love. You make me s _oh_ very happy, Charles- more than I have ever been."

"And I will make you happier if I can… that's all I want in life…Elsie, to see you so happy…and to hold you close to me when you can't be… that is all. Let me love all of you…"

"Then tell me, Charles," she breathes heavily into his mouth again. "Let me hear your voice."

Charles kisses her deeply again before moving off to tell her the other wonders of her body, and he kisses softly along her jawline and back down her neck to her collarbones and shoulders, and all the while her left-hand holds his right, and their lucky six-pence stays freshly minted between them.

oOOo

Elsie… my sweet Elsie… I love to run my lips across your collarbones and hear you moan my name… but... I love them mostly because they lead me to two of my favourite destinations on your beautiful body… Well,… make that four, really." And he smiles at this against her skin as he brushes kisses up one of those fine-boned ridges towards her shoulder. Charles continues dotting sweet small kisses all across her skin, throughout all the words he speaks out low and deep to his Elsie. "Hmmm…Firstly… they bring me to your shoulders that are so pale and smooth- like marble- and just as strong… For, I know the things you have carried upon your shoulders, and when I see them they make me feel so proud for you... for the strong woman that you are Elspeth Hughes… and that makes _me_ feel so immensely proud- that a strong woman like you sees me as good enough to be with you. And…and they are so warm… Elsie, and that is your strength. They are not cold like marble at all… so warm…so warm…" and he brushes his lips in a circle over them. "And they are soft beneath my lips, and I love that they seem to fit into the cup of my palms and that I can rub them and soothe them if you need me to ... and I just love that I can finally do that if you need me to… but mainly I love how I can nip them lightly with my teeth… and imagine them as the sweetest peach from a tree- that texture…as they give a little against my teeth…and it just makes you moan for me again… God, how I love it when you call for me, Elsie."

And she _is_ calling for him… for he has been nipping and licking at her shoulder in between his words all of this time and making her writhe beneath him in her want.

"Mohr… Yes _s,_ Charles … Oh, I love it too. Show me more... Tell me more."

And his words and the feel of Elsie's skin and its many various wonders under his mouth make him yearn hotly for her. He did not think he could possibly be physically ready for her so soon this morning after the love she made to him earlier, but he is rested, and…and she just thrills him so. She fills all of his senses so thoroughly right now with all of the promise of being surrounded completely by her once more, when she is ready for him again. It is entirely arousing, and he cannot help but rub himself against her lush hip as he lies long against her side, one of his legs draped across the top of hers.

And then he moves his mouth back down her collarbone and raises himself a little to trace across to the other side and lavish her other perfect shoulder with his nips and kisses so that she moans out his name in that incredibly enticing tone of hers all over again. And then he makes his way up to her ear... because he has an idea, that he can get his Elsie to soar for him without quite touching her _there-_ if he can only tell her clearly what her full womanhood is like to kiss and touch... or if he can tell her what it feels like when he is enveloped and held so deeply by her, even if right now, she is not able. He hopes she will not be shocked by his words… for he knows that she may never have considered how beautiful this part of her body actually is… and he really thinks that she ought to know. But deep down, he thinks that maybe she won't really be shocked or upset, for no one but they need ever know the words they speak to each other when they are together alone.

"Charles, tell me," she moans out to him hotly. "Tell me the other favourite places- kiss me there too… oh please, Charles… please." _She does want to hear it!_

"Oh, I will, my love… I will… and I cannot wait to kiss and lick and fondle them both again… your _delightful_ breasts, Elsie. Hmmm…you have no idea how much I love to cup them in my hands and feel their weight and squeeze them lightly and then firmly afterwards, and run my fingertips _all_ over them as I rub your nipples in my palms and… then… I can place soft kisses all over their plump softness." And he is getting so excited by this very notion that he is pressing ever harder into Elsie's hip and she is so overjoyed at his reaction to even the _thought_ of touching her that way that she reaches for him with her free hand and starts to squeeze his hot hardness, and he moves with her fine strong fingers that are driving him mad with delight, and he just cannot stop his hips rolling back and forth into her steady grip. He groans out low and long.

"Oh, Elsie… that' is s _oo_ good."

"Kiss me there Charles, kiss me."

But from somewhere within all this foggy lust he hears her, and with superhuman effort, he actually refuses and moves Elsie's hand off of him for the moment.

"Oh no, _Els- ssie_ , Els… not yet… because …oohhh…" he groans hard for her "… because I just wouldn't be able to stop licking and kissing your sweet little nipples that …hmmm…oh God, Elsie… they tighten beneath my tongue and get all hard and _so_ perfect that I don't even have the words anymore Elsie- Els…"

"Yes _ss_!... _a chagair_ " she hisses her pleasure out long to him. "You do, Charles…you d _ooo_ ," and she sighs out heavily to encourage him because she cannot get enough of his voice and hearing how he feels his pleasure for her.

And now his words are tumbling out hot and fast. "Oh, Elsie…dear God… and… and…when one of them just totally overwhelms my mouth until I cannot _take_ anymore of how beautiful it all is to feel that perfect little hard and delicately ridged bud on my lips and tongue…Oh god, Els…then I have the other one that I can move over to and bury my face into all of your pink soft breast, and I can grab onto that other little piece of your pleasure between my lips that … _ohh_ … Elsie… it reminds me of … when …when …"

Elsie is writhing and panting uncontrollably at his description of her and in her desperate want for him to carry out all of those actions on her _right now_. And her movements against his arousal just make him rub even more vigorously against her voluptuous hip.

"Please Charles… tell me … show me… oh… please, please touch me."

"H _aaagh…_ Els…Els…your nipples…it is just like when…when I am kissing you in your beautiful hot…" he worries briefly that his next word will shock her terribly for its coarseness, but in this delirious moment, he knows nothing else that he can possibly call it, "your… hmmm…oh God…Els…your hot _quim_ ," he breathes it out heatedly into her ear, and he feels such stammering pleasurable relief when her acceptance of it all shows in the full length sparking and shudder of all of her nerve endings along the length of his own hot body next to hers. And she groans that throaty, guttural Gaelic sound that drives him utterly wild with desire for her perfect wet heat… for her deep quim*.

"OH!...M _ooohhr!…yesss… yes!_ oh please, a chagair, please…. just tell me more, kiss me… please touch me," she just keeps encouraging him as her hips undulate wildly at the thought of it all- as she remembers just how exquisite it is to have him do all of that for her there. She loves that he loves it so much. She wants to hear his love… he can be as risqué as he likes with her right now- for he says everything so lovingly and poetically and truly for her that she feels completely safe and revered by him and so is quite unashamed of the extent of her lust for him- she just _adores_ it all.

"Oh Elsie.. he whispers hotly to her as he keeps grinding hard into her hip… do you have any idea … hmmm… how very beautiful your quim is?... it's like a beautiful exotic flower, Elsie… I love to kiss and lick your flower with my lips and tongue…and… that little pearl bud .. that feels like one of your perfect nipples and it just tastes so… so good...so sweet …OH God! Els...Els… it's like I have died and gone to heaven."

"Tell me, oh God please tell me Charles," she pants out "… tell me what you see…tell me what you feel _…_ a chagair…a chagair…"

And Charles now has a desperate need to see her excitement blooming _just_ there as he describes all of her own lush womanly beauty to her- his incredibly sensual wife. He cannot get enough of her- or the fact that their imaginations work in such alignment for their mutual pleasure. Their lovemaking is so total and all-encompassing and sacred and beautiful to him. Charles never knew it could just keep getting better and better like this with his ever-accepting Elsie. He cannot get over how she embraces his vivid imagination for her so freely and unashamedly. It makes him feel so…so wanted…and safe to feel and express himself with her completely. Freely. It is utter bliss to make love to his wife. Utter, utter bliss.

Charles moves up onto his knees next to her again and just cannot leave those perfectly stiff and perky nipples floating atop that sea of soft pale flesh alone. His tongue needs to touch all of the wonders of them that he has brought to their minds through his words. He needs to see Elsie writhing in ecstasy as he gazes long down her body from up so close to it all. He bends and sucks one of her breasts into his desperately thirsty mouth, and it sparks and incredible jolt of pleasure right to Elsie's womanhood and she arches high and reflexively towards him- searching for that place with him- it is so _very_ close- that place where her body cannot hold onto the joy and pleasure that has built up inside of her anymore, and she has to release it all into his safe keeping- she wants to release her joy for him.

"Haah…aagh…Mooohhrrr!" She rolls out thick and rounded across her tongue.

Their hands have changed position across her body to keep their penny still held tight just above her belly, but as this initial shock of pleasure sees her back settle to the mattress for the moment, and as her hips keep dancing fluidly in circles before his eyes, and he looks further down her body from his place of ultimate soft pillowy pleasure, she grasps for his heat and his hardness again. She is so very close, but she does not want to leave him behind. She wants him with her- all of the way so that she can see his pleasure as surely as he sees hers.

Charles is groaning heavily into her breast as his tongue plays as slowly as his tenuous self-control will allow him to around her sweet stiff nipple. But he gasps loudly into her as she holds his silken hardness in her tight embrace again, and his hot open mouthed kissing becomes automatically and frantically faster- flicking that beautiful stiff pearl back and forth with the stiffened tip of his tongue. He cannot stop the hungry moaning sounds escaping from him and muffling into all of that softness. He feels as if he could somehow devour all this pleasure right into himself like the finest meal ever set before a starving man.

And Elsie is shaking beneath his ministrations now. He can feel her so very close to her finish. Her high moans tell him she wants to finish. So he moves his kisses down her soft full belly licking and nipping over her high defined hip bones, which he now knows can drive her to the brink of utter distraction- if he just feathers fine tongue-tipped licks over them- and so he does – just to hear her sighs rising in pitch- almost to a squeal on the intake of each of her hot laboured breaths. Then he traces a path down that angled grove where her leg meets her upper body, just under her hips, and she jerks immediately closer to his face, trying to get him where he knows she most desperately wants him… but where on _this_ occasion… he has promised that he just _will not_ go. So he licks long and languorously down her leg instead, lifting it up to his hot and hungry mouth with his free hand until he reaches her shiny skin that stretches thin over her shin bone. And he does not think that he has actually had a chance to properly feel that part of her skin under his tongue so far in their lovemaking journeys, so he slowly nibbles down its length towards her foot, and it makes her jerk her leg reflexively within the tender grip of his great hand around her ankle, and then her knees fall apart shamelessly wide for him so that he can finally see all of that glistening exotic bounty and can take his time telling Elsie of its wonders- because he knows now that she wants that too. And that is such a singularly and erotic thought for him in this hot moment that he jerks hard into Elsie's loving, strong hand as she continues to stroke his length.

He shudders out a hot groan and is suddenly unafraid that he will reach his peak as he towers above his trusting wife. He sees her dark and lustful intent for him in her stunning blue eyes, and he can feel it in the rapid increase in pressure and speed of her loving handling of his manhood. He jerks his hips uncontrollably into her grip once again. His only fear is that he will not be able to command his power of speech well enough to tell Elsie the wonders he wants her to hear about her hidden and most secret womanly charms.

He sits back lower on his knees and rests her ankle up on his shoulder so that his free left hand can move back to fondling one of Elsie's breasts, because he thinks now this whole thing might just work and he might actually see her to her highest pleasure just with his words and carefully controlled touches.

"Tell me _a chagair_ " she pants out in her excitement for him "…Oh, God…Charles… tell me what…what you see…please _..."_

He growls a long rumbling animal thunder for her and somehow forms words. "Oh …Elsie-love… you are sso… _sooo_ per _rrfect._ You have no idea…so very beautiful… you are gleaming and pretty and exotic- like an orchid, my love… a deep red orchid…Rouge foncé … pretty,..pretty Elspeth …Rouge foncé." And the sound of those rolling guttural French vowels spilling from within his huge chest and off his tongue in that deep rumbling waterfall of lust he houses just for her makes her shiver and gasp out so high for him… _God, I hope he knows some French songs to sing to me_ , she thinks in a wild flash.

"Ha! AHH! Oh please, Charles!"

"…So soft …so soft… beautiful silky soft … like opening petals … and they ….feel hot and wet that's how you are…when…with my tongue…. When…when I can taste you…grrr. Aaagh … oh Elsie I… Oh dear God! That feels so g-good Els…don't stop… oh… you look so wet …all of your sweet… ahh… nectar … Els.. Els… it is like nothing else I have ever tasted … so sweet … so sweet…so beautiful… I love it … you taste so, so good to me Els …like I am drinking all of you… all your sweet love and light…and I want… I want it … I can't …can't get enough… it floods my tongue when you are so…so close …so close... I…I…" He is so close himself now, and at his words, Elsie feels herself getting even wetter for him, all of her hot love and lust and pleasure and desire – so finely tuned to him- so powerful it causes her grip onto him and tighten even further and her back arches high off the bed again as she searches for that final ridge of hard pleasure that she just wants to have him wrench her so lovingly over the top of. She wants to go there with her adoring husband…. _God! He is such a perfect lover! Everything… he is everything…_

" _Moohr_! … _moohr_ … Charles … _moohr_!… tell me more… now … now …" she gasps out desperately as her hips buck rhythmically and high off the bed and roll as she presents her hot centre to him.

Oh God Els. Your hips…hips dance …such a dancer …love it …when I am deep inside you…so, so deep… like falling… silk …wet … hot silk. Els… and tight… so close around me … so… Els… so…so good… Oh god!… I ..I l-love it when you hold me inside you...surround me…so completely… God .. Els …Els …want … you…want you always… always…. Please!

And Elsie, even in her uncontrollable writhing and calling out for him… she hears him… she hears him… and she holds him ever tighter and moves his silken skin so fast for him as she imagines him deep inside her- so deeply again … _God!_ how she loves to hold him that way… She wants that over and over with him - when she can – to be enveloped in all of the hot bulk of his arms- enfolded safely by him as she enfolds him so safely and deeply inside her. There is no greater pleasure. The thought of it sends her soaring. Charles sees her- sees her flying high for him- sees her glimmering pulsing redness for him and as he feels himself surging within her hand and he needs to hold onto something- his fingers at her cushiony gorgeous breast pinch harder at her nipple, and their hands on her belly still grip in a mixed handshake-held so tightly together over their heated special penny- and his head falls to her ankle still resting up on his shoulder, digging down onto him with the pressure of her hard stringing weight as she raises her hips off the mattress again- rising for him… and wanting so much for him to kiss and lick and cherish those beautiful dew blessed red orchid petals that are full and flushed and lush … pulsing hard for him – and he can see… he can see…

"Oh God, Els!" he groans out high and long out as he clasps his mouth around that fine skinned inner ankle bone up near his face. He needs that … he needs that- to steady him as he jerks and shudders in her hand and finishes across the skin of her belly, over their hands clasped together with their penny and over the luscious thick curls that cloak her hot deep quim. And she is right there with him. Seeing his pleasure. Seeing him come undone by the strength of her hands alone is just so exciting. She loves to see how powerful he is – even when he totally loses control. Loves it! Loves him.

"Aah… ahh! So go _oo_ d O _oooh! S'_ good… my man. So good!" she gasps out high and loud for him as she also shudders and topples over that high ridge of pleasure as she feels his hot wet mouth grip and lick onto her sensitive ankle. She shouts loud for him as he collapses to the side of her onto his back from his kneeling position on the bed and his hand comes away from that hard nipple he had been pinching so lovingly as he squeezed hard into her breast and her leg is drawn out even wider as he pulls her with him in his momentum and it spins her partially on the bed so they end up almost head to toe with one another- skewed across the bed with Elsie's leg somehow draped up over his chest and he can see down the length of her shaking lithe legs- can still see her pulsing wet beauty.

 _Dear god… this is so perfect!_

He is gasping elatedly and Elsie is still shimmering and quivering. Somehow their palms have stayed pressed together, even with the sudden change of their positions as they reached their zenith together- their precious six-pence is still kept safe between. And despite that exhilarating finish- where only the power of their imaginations and their words brought her to those promised heights, Elsie still feels a desperate need for Charles to finally touch her where they both feel so safely embraced when they love each other- because for some reason it does not quite feel complete until she can touch him to herself there. So she moves their hands that hold their penny secure and places the back of his broad hand over herself- to feel the weight of him there. And it keeps her still high with zinging excitement- still somewhere up near that very fine precipice. And before she realises what she is doing, she is rubbing her hot wet quim all over the back of his hand- marking him with her scent of love and she is groaning in ecstatic pleasure once again.

 _God this man… drives me wild!_

"Charles…Charles!"

And he hears her call to him through the rushing of blood in his ears and he controls the movement of his head enough to gaze at her in loving astonishment at the sight of her still in the heights of her pleasure and he feels her swollen, hot wetness on the back of his hand and thinks his face will just break apart he is so happy right now- for how he feels, but mainly for how he sees her wanting him – wanting _all_ of this with him. It is so erotic and free. He still feels hot aftershocks of want stringing through in his inner pelvic muscles just at the sight of her. He loves to share in her ecstasy. So he finds the words again- knows she will want to hear him- to know that it is all perfectly all right to want him so badly in this way.

"Yess. Els… Oh yes… my love… again…. Let me see you again!" and he helps her start moving their hands together in a rhythm that increases the friction she is so desperately chasing. And the poetry that he has left for her is merely that which will call her to his side once more… for it is all he desires for them right now. "Fly for me again, Elsie-love… come to me,my love … yes …come to me again… let me feel your hot quim…I love it. I love it. I can feel all your hot full petals." And he finds the French words.. because if it sends her to a place of joy- he will give them to her. "Rouge foncé… achagair.. your rouge foncé… I love it… I love it … I love you… Come to me … Be here with me … yes _ss.. a chagair…_ Yes!"

Elsie is grinding herself hard and fast over their joined hands now. Feeling so very close to her man- feeling safe and loved and accepted and so, so very excited – being so close. So close.

 _God this is so good! I want this! I want this!_

"Charles! Charles!" she is almost screaming incoherently in her pleasure now. She feels like she might die. Some strange threads in her brain think she may not ever make it to Scarborough if this man keeps this up with her. "Oh God!"

 _So perfect … so good… so good… always s-soh good!_

"Oh God! God!… Chaaarlees! HAah ahaa- ah!"

She jerks in a final grinding hard arc onto his hand as she finally reaches that highest peak of pleasure she knew she was after when this all started earlier as Charles made their little penny appear magically from behind her ear. Elsie collapses almost into a foetal curl as her body cannot process any more sensation in this moment of absolute completion with her man. _Bliss!_

"Oh dear God," she pants out to him… "oh God… that …that… oh, my man… Haaah…" she sighs out long to catch her breath a little. Then a broad smile graces her face as the wonder of sharing this pleasure with her magical poet-lover tickles her to her core. "haaah...Well…" she sighs out, "Carson _the_ Magnificent, that was… officially… incredible… how… how… do… you do this to me, Charles? … Dear God…" and her belly and chest are still heaving huge drafts of fresh air into her lungs… air fresh with the heavy exotic musk of their lovemaking.

 _It is perfect._

Their six-pence of good fortune still harbours all the heat of their passionate lovemaking between their locked hands. Charles and Elsie stay splayed in their oddly angled positions across the bed- both completely spent. Charles tracing one hand up and down Elsie's leg that lies heavy across his chest and he turns his head every so often to place little kisses around her ankle.

"I must say, we do seem to be becoming rather adept at all this, don't you think, Els?"

"My God, yes! HA! And that may well be the understatement of the year, Charles!" and with that, Elsie starts giggling uncontrollably again- now that everything else has been released to her man's safe keeping- her residual joy needs an outlet too… she is all giddy again- euphoric and helpless … and so incredibly happy and astounded to have found anything like this sort of passion at her stage of life. It is an absolute gift and a blessing.

He sighs out long and happily and squeezes tight to Elsie's hand again, around their coin of love. "Oh, Els… I have never been so glad for someone to give me back a paltry six-pence they once borrowed in my entire _life_!"

Elsie's heart stops. She blinks twice rapidly and suddenly finds coiling energy within her that she did not know she had left as she wrenches her hand free from his and sits bolt upright in white cold shock- as if her skin has just been flensed. With the hottest spike of rage she has ever felt towards anyone in her entire life she yells out.

"WHAT?!"

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 **A/N:** **Sorry, dear readers! I had to put at least one cliffhanger in this piece! (cowers sheepishly). But fear not, the next chapter will be up very soon.**

 **Calm yourself with some of my research notes of interest in the meantime.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter and can spare some time to review.**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow**

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 **Serialised fiction/** _ **The Black Abbot-**_

 **Edgar Wallace was a British author of, mostly, crime-thriller fiction, but also Sci-fi and other genres. He was one of the most prolific writers ever. He used Dictaphone-style wax cylinders to narrate and record his stories and then had a secretary transcribe them (perhaps her name was SIRI! ;p) sometimes a novel within a week, and generally with several on the go at once- CRAZY! His output became a bit of a joke in literary circles- the master of the penny dreadful crime-thriller novel it seems. Many of his books were initially released in serialised form in papers and magazines.**

 _ **The Black Abbot**_ **possibly** **ran in the weekly magazine** _ **The Sphere-**_ **I am** **not sure now how I came to that discovery/conclusion- a bit of piecing of things together and an educated guess to fit my needs, no doubt! Not all historical British Newspapers are available as yet online- and certainly not for free as it is in my own country- but there will be greater access to these things in the future I hope- maybe when Universities around the world decide to pay for the subscription and I can use my local access to get to it!**

 **Here is where I went browsing but refused to pay up! (The British Newspaper Archive: . / )**

 **That said, it is quite uncanny that this 1926 novel of Wallace's happened to be set around a stately home- this was totally unplanned as I was merely searching the net for what books may have been serialised at this time and realistic for Charles and Elsie to have been following. I expected something by Agatha Christie- but she had nothing serialised in a national paper in 1926 that I could draw on. Thomas the footman is for real in the book- as is the somewhat gossipy Glover the Butler. I cannot claim to having read it all- just a couple of chapters where characters are established and that was enough for the purposes of fleshing out this fiction. I love it when a plan comes together with this fiction though! Some things have fallen into place in quite unforeseen but serendipitous ways. : ) I will eventually read all of** _ **The Black Abbot**_ **\- a bit of brain candy it will no doubt be- and cheap to boot. Here is a link for a free copy with original 1926 cover art from Project Gutenberg AU: .**

 **But the complete works of Edgar Wallace is actually available on ibooks for a grand total of $2.99. so why not read all of** _ **The Black Abbot**_ **for yourself? I love the internet!**

 **Full definition of Legerdemain f** **rom the Etymology Online Dictionary** **– one of my favourite websites ever- The Oxford English Dictionary online is more extensive with etymology and usage- but it is not free and takes me longer to log in to via a university library account- so I am lazy that way :p . ? allowed_in_frame=0&search=legerdemain**

 ***** **legerdemain** **(n.)**

 **early 15c., "conjuring tricks, sleight of hand," from Middle French léger de main "quick of hand," literally "light of hand." Léger "light" in weight (Old French legier, 12c.) is from Latin levis "light," from PIE root *legwh- "light, having little weight; easy, agile, nimble" (see lever); it is cognate with Spanish ligero, Italian leggiero "light, nimble" (hence also leger line in music). Main "hand" is from Latin manus (see manual (adj.)).**

 **Coup de Maitr** **é** **\- Masterstroke.**

 **Just because French just sounded better in that sentence!- plus the following etymology makes it fitting for Charles as head of the house staff:**

 ****** **maitre d'hotel**

 **1530s, "head domestic," from French maître d'hôtel, literally "house-master," from Old French maistre "master; skilled worker, educator" (12c.), from Latin magistrum (see magistrate). Sense of "hotel manager, manager of a dining room" is from 1890. Shortened form maître d' is attested from 1942; simple maitre from 1899.**

 ******* **quim-** **well!- It is clear what is meant by it here- it would have been seen as a very course slang word even in 1926, and especially for our Victorian era born and bred heroes. The etymology is difficult to trace due to it being a taboo term. This web age gives the best tracing of the term in spoken and written history if you are interested. questions/142492/where-did-the-word-quim-come-from**

 **Magic tricks with coins:**

 **Web pages with information on basic coin sleights and tricks are easily found all over the web. I did a little searching to come up with what Charles might still be able to remember from 50 years ago- and put it all in the basket of "well once you learn to ride a bike, you don't really forget". Kept it all basic though, and it was more to give me the process and therefore the lyrical motif of words I wanted to drive the action along. I hope it worked because I like to see our normally serious heroes having a laugh and fun times together.**

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 **Back Soon!**

 **BorneToFlow : )**


	32. Chapter 32- Called to Account

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 32- Called to Account.**

 **A/N 1:** Here there be monsters ... umm ...I mean angsties- sorry!

But I do kind of hope you may need a tissue or two- if it is good enough. It is my first real attempt at writing true angst- although Charles musing on his future place at Downton in Chapter 25- _Reflections_ may have been close (Well, it made me shed tears for him as I wrote it- but I could just be a bit doolally).

 **A/N 2:** Here there be adult content, too. Not sorry- NSFW!

But, fear not, it is still true to my former promise of respectful engagement between these two characters- so no trigger warnings should be necessary.

 **CECECECECE**

 _"Oh dear God," she pants out to him, "oh God… that …that… oh, my man… Haaah…" she sighs out long to catch her breath a little. Then a broad smile graces her face as the wonder of sharing this pleasure with her magical poet-lover tickles her to her core. "Haaah...Well…" she sighs out, "Carson the Magnificent, that was… officially… incredible… how… how… do… you do this to me, Charles? … Dear God…" and her belly and chest are still heaving huge drafts of fresh air into her lungs… air fresh with the heavy exotic musk of their lovemaking._

It is perfect.

 _Their six-pence of good fortune still harbours all the heat of their passionate lovemaking between their locked hands. Charles and Elsie stay splayed in their oddly angled positions across the bed- both completely spent. Charles traces one hand up and down Elsie's leg which lies heavily across his chest and he turns his head every so often to place little kisses around her ankle._

 _"I must say, we do seem to be becoming rather adept at all this, don't you think, Els?"_

 _"My God, yes! HA! And that may well be the understatement of the year, Charles!" And with that, Elsie starts giggling uncontrollably again. Now that everything else has been released to her man's safe keeping, her residual joy needs an outlet too. She is all giddy again- euphoric and helpless- and so incredibly happy and astounded to have found anything like this sort of passion at her stage of life. It is an absolute gift and a blessing._

 _He sighs out long and happily and squeezes tight to Elsie's hand again, around their coin of love. "Oh, Els… I have never been so glad for someone to give me back a paltry six-pence they once borrowed in my entire life!"_

 _Elsie's heart stops. She blinks twice rapidly and suddenly finds coiling energy within her that she did not know she had left as she wrenches her hand free from his and sits bolt upright in white cold shock- as if her skin has just been flensed. With the hottest spike of rage she has ever felt towards anyone in her entire life she yells out._

 _"WHAT?!"_

 **CECECECECE**

Elsie scrabbles across bed, almost kicking Charles in the head in her haste to be away from him. She bends to grabs the closest thing resembling clothing and throws it around her shoulders as Charles sits up briskly, rapidly blinking his wide and confused eyes as he reaches out for her instinctively. She clutches his robe tight to her front like the flimsy armour that it is and tries desperately to cover her naked vulnerability.

"Don't _touch_ me!" she bites out venomously.

Stripped bare, Charles visibly winces as her words whip across his heart.

Elsie storms fierce and erect across the room only to crumple seconds later into an absurdly ornate ruby velvet Louis XVI armchair set next to a small side table in their suite. Hunched forward on her elbows, Elsie clasps her open palm across her mouth tries to stifle the wrenching sob that is escaping from the hollow of her chest. Her other hand fists into her eyes but fails to stem the flow of vicious tears.

Charles takes one tentative step towards his wife from their bedside, his arms flailing helplessly by his sides as his hands start clenching and unclenching around something that he cannot quite grasp.

"How could you?" she whispers- almost to herself, but then her wrath rises along with her voice and her eyes lash up at his face. "How could you bring her in here, Charles?! Into _our_ time together- our _most_ intimate time! How could you?! How could you?! How _dare_ you?!" she snarls this last out ominously low, "How?..." she trails off as the flash of fire peters out as quickly as it had flared up. Her voice cracks across her weeping soul. " _Our_ six-pence…" She swallows hard and gives a small mirthless laugh as she shakes her head incredulously before another heaving, harsh sob scrapes out from her throat.

Charles is utterly floundering. He feels the ground listing madly beneath his feet, but he somehow stays upright enough to cross at least a small part of the vast chasm that has suddenly ripped open between them. He clutches on to the only part of Elsie's speech that seems at all steady to him. _Our six-pence…_ and finally, the penny drops.

"L-Lady… Lady Mary!" he stammers out. "Good God, Elsie! What kind of a man do you take me for! If that were the case I would drive back to Downton today _myself_ and have His Lordship drag me out into the front courtyard to be SHOT!"

She eyes him with a sliver of such blistering hatred that he actually blanches white. It slices right through all of her icy tears. "Well, he'd have a _damned_ time wresting the pistol from my own hands right now if you did!" She spits out at him from atop her tower of bitter hurt.

 _Elsie never swears._ Charles mind latches onto this minuscule fact and adds it to his rapidly expanding instinct that none of this right now is any good. Not at all. _None of it._ Elsie has never struck out at him like _this_ before. _Never._

His mind is tumbling over his panicked thoughts. Part of him cannot even believe that she would think along these lines at all. At the moment he just cannot fathom _any_ of it. But as he sees his Elsie looking so small- a hard and jagged little stone peeking out from behind a rare morning hoar frost, all spiked and brittle- it breaks him. _Where is my soft and strong Elsie? Oh God, I've lost her! And she's somewhere else- hurting. I hurt her. In the worst possible circumstances- I hurt my Lady. Oh, dear God, please help me!_ He pleads silently with his maker. And in this moment it does not matter why Elsie might have come to this state of belief about him, or them, or their perfect six-pence of promise- it only matters that she did. He feels like an _absolute_ cad. He feels lost. He does not even know how much of this is really his fault- only that he has to try to fix it. To make it right. To not make it right with her … well… that just does not bear even thinking about. He gropes about for the right words- any words.

Charles' voice quavers in an almost imperceptibly low and fear-filled tone.

"You… you can't really mean that, can you?...Elsie…?"

Elsie looks up at him through the ~glistening menace of her pain. Naked and unsure. She sees his hurt and dread-filled eyes and her heart immediately and desperately aches for him. "No… no, I don't…Charles" she chokes out past the agonising lump of spleen that seems to have taken up residence at the back of her tongue. She lifts her arm and melts her hand into his gigantic warm paw. "Come…" she weeps out as she draws him down to her. He gratefully kneels before her and awaits his penance. And he waits- for that is what he does. And he hopes- for her understanding. And he prays- for forgiveness- at least eventually. He wants his Elsie back- like nothing else in all this world- he wants _her_.

She rests her forehead heavily against his bare chest. And everything is rising hot and fast again and soon she is lightly and rhythmically beating her head in sheer frustration against his bulk as she tries desperately to control her aching mind that is trying to put some sort of order and a name to all of these rampant feelings and thoughts.

 _It hurts._

 _Everything._

 _Everything just hurts so much._

 _Come on Elsie._

 _Elsie-lass._

 _Come on now, lass._

 _Elsie Hughes! Pull yourself together! You are not like this!_

And she draws in a shuddering breath past the thickness of her tears- as deeply as she can manage.

Charles tentatively encircles her with his arms, gripping tightly onto the bunched-up cloth. He just wants to swaddle her up. Wants to rock her softly and calm her- make it all better. He is scared. So scared. He has never seen Mrs Hughes like this- not once. He has never seen her this way at all. But this _is_ his Elsie, clear and bright, and this is all so different and new now- and it hurts. _Oh, God how it hurts. It hurts so much- this place. Help me. Help me to be back on her side, oh please God, help me._ One great hand reaches up to gently scoop her trapped hair from the collar of the gigantic robe she is engulfed in and he starts to smooth it out across her back, for he needs something to soothe and calm himself too. And it his innate tenderness that finally overwhelms her and she breaks suddenly and with full and horrifying force against him.

 _But I am like this!_

And Elsie sobs petulantly and uncontrollably and messily against him- her fists balled up and grinding into him with all of the frustrated and angry force she can muster through the single conscious and marginally controlled thread that she has left in her mind, for she knows that if she does not press him like this she is liable to pull back and strike.

 _Everything._

Everything that has been building up and that she has stifled and pushed down, and that she has held tight counsel on, or let slide and not mentioned at all in the build up to their wedding- and all that it represents - all of those years of playing second fiddle to others needs and demands, over and above her own, almost _every_ single time- and of Charles doing _exactly_ the same thing- _all_ of it- it all comes crashing down over her and the only outlet for the deluge is through her swollen red eyes. Her temples ache horribly under this onslaught of emotions that she just cannot control- she cannot. And she just hates that fact, and it only makes it hurt all the more. And she is just so, so worn out from it all. Tired. So very, very tired and she just cannot hold onto anything anymore- none of it- not now. Not now that Charles has torn the sanctity and safety of their one little penny away from her. Everything seems sullied. Violated. Every word they have spoken and every promise they have made over it- now coloured and not entirely theirs. Everything she thought they were building- together alone- the love that they were making together- it all feels like it has been ripped violently away and she has been left lying naked and shamed upon their dirty sheets.

But he is still there.

And her sobs have finally started to subside. Perhaps she has already plumbed the depths of what she has to feel about all of this and there really is nothing left. But, it seems more likely that the body can only maintain this heightened level of distress for a brief time before it physically gives out. That is likely a good thing anyway. She feels somewhat unreal. Utterly exhausted and strangely floaty, and yet still rather too much like that lump of melting jelly she started out the very first morning her married life as. And this silly thought makes her hiccup out the tiniest snort of laughter.

 _Oh God- is this what I waited all my life for!_ She thinks wildly. _Lord- is married life always lived in such utterly ridiculous extremes!_ And for some reason, this thought tickles her too. _What have you gone and got yourself into, Elspeth Mae Hughes?_ She chastises herself.

And still, he is there.

Ever the silent sentinel.

Solid and real.

And still trying his utmost best to love and protect her.

He has not run from her- not for one second. And that _means_ something.

That is real.

Charles feels her starting to relax into him again- but there is still an edge of uncertainty to his Elsie- something stiff and unyielding. He knows that he will be called to account. And he will make an account of it all. He will. His mind has managed to reel in one small way that he may be able to get Elsie to understand- a way that might allow them to rebuild this most beautiful thing they had. He cannot think that it will ever be the same, but in time he hopes it may still be strong enough to support them both. He will account for his side in all of this. He is still here to do _just_ that- and he will. He will.

And Elsie feels, more than ever before in her entire life, that she needs someone to hold onto right now -and he is here and he is real. So, Elsie silently slips her arms around him and holds her Charles right back, for she knows deep down that she still really does _want_ him to hold her too. For he is her Charles, and she promised him.

When Charles feels her arms finally tighten around him, he breathes out the pained and heavy breath he did not know he had been harbouring this whole time, and then he buries his face right into the silken depths and strength of her hair and inhales the sweet and fragrant life of her deeply into his lungs. His arms tighten around her even more and his eyes glisten with relief that his soft and strong Elsie is somehow slowly returning to him. He knew. _I always knew,_ he reminds himself, _I did. I knew you would never forsake me, pretty Elspeth. Oh, thank you, God! Thank you for my Elsie-love._

Still, there is work to be done.

oOOo

"Elsie-love…" he asks quietly and nervously. "Will you please let me explain? Will you please hear me now?"

 _I told him I always wanted that._ Elsie actively reminds herself. _I did. And my word is good._

She pulls her sticky tear-soaked face away from his sodden chest and looks him straight in the eye- well, as best as her own swollen and bleary eyes will allow. But she is a proud and honest woman, and this is the only face she has to show him right now- warts and all. She nods her head ever so slightly in acquiescence.

"Just…just give me a moment…Elsie-love. There is something I need to get…" Elsie swipes at her running nose with the sleeve of his robe. "Let me fetch a handkerchief for you, I will be right back."

She relinquishes her grip on him and he dashes quickly to his dressing room to retrieve his grey suit jacket. He quickly pauses to mop some of Elsie's liquid pain from his skin and to at least pull on a pair of trousers, for it might prove difficult to make his point seriously right now if he were to remain in the altogether.

oOOo

When he returns to the room his heart catches painfully at the sight of his normally solid and perfectly postured lady- her beauty broken down and looking as if she has been physically flung down onto the chair from a great height. And in a way, he knows it is true – from the very peaks of their lovemaking - down to this now. _She was thrown._ And however inadvertently it may have been, it was still at his hand. And now she is all crushed and forlorn and hidden by the weight of his own borrowed mantle. _By t_ _he weight of who I am,_ he realises with immense sadness. But Charles is never one to shirk his responsibilities. _No!- That is who I_ _was_ _! I am HER man now… and I am better than all that I once was. I am more than that, and I_ _will_ _fix this._

With renewed determination, he silently and cautiously approaches her again. Respectfully- as one would with a skittish horse- just like those magnificent Stubbs ones they went to see together yesterday. _I want all of the memories we have shared back- I want them clear again. They are_ _ours_ _._ And his Elsie, he knows, is just as magnificent as they- _as anyone-_ and she deserves even more respect than all of them put together right now. He hopes to convince her that it is exactly what he has been doing all weekend- even through every movement of their cherished six-pence across her body as he made love with her just moments ago. He hopes to convince her that he will continue to respect her this way- always.

Still bare-chested, he pushes another red armchair over to face hers and pulls a crisp clean handkerchief from the breast pocket of his wedding suit before draping the jacket over the back of the chair. He seats himself before her- their knees touching. He lifts both of her listless hands gently into one of his own and carefully wipes the moisture of her tears from them. Then he lifts the kerchief and dabs it ever so gently across her face and closed eyes, and he feels inordinate relief when she leans lightly into his hand and murmurs some small sound of appreciation low in her throat.

"Elsie-love… here" and he intones quietly as he places the crisp white cloth into one of her hands so that she may blow her nose. Which she does, and in possibly the least lady-like fashion she ever has done- but there it is. And besides, Charles really could not give another fillip* for any of that right now. He just wants his Elsie feeling better again.

"Elsie…" he speaks quietly to her again as she flickers her eyes open to him, and he holds her gaze unflinchingly. "I have so much I want to tell you to make all of this right again. I know I have hurt you- but please believe me when I tell you that I never, ever intended to. And it rips at my heart to know that I have somehow managed to bungle everything that we have shared together this weekend. And I want a chance to make it up to you. Please?"

Elsie just gives his hand an almost imperceptible squeeze and her eyes tell him- _You can. We will. We will be all right together_.

He breathes out a long sigh of relief and he speaks ever so softly to her- wrapping her up in the warm embrace of his dulcet tones once more. "And, Elsie, I have something to show you, when...when you are ready, that may help you to understand all of this. But, before that, please know this from me now- now and forever after -and above all else, a chagair, this is the absolute truth—that _whenever_ we are together so closely in our intimate time, Elsie-love, you utterly overwhelm every single one of my senses and fill my entire soul so completely that _absolutely_ _nothing else-_ and _no one_ else but  you ever, _ever _ crosses my mind." He states adamantly. "You believed it after the first time I made love to you, and you later guessed so easily about Griggs and Alice. And I can only ask that you believe me again when I say that it is still the case today and especially with our little coin. Do you think you can be open to believing that again?"

She draws in a shaking tear–filled breath past her grief-swollen lips.

"I will try," she squeaks out. "That is all I can give you right now."

"Thank you, a chagair…But now, if I am to make this right, Darling Elsie, I need you to tell me where all of this comes from- _all_ of it. Can you do that? Do you think you can do that?

Elsie just feels so indescribably weak right now. _Is this what happens to hysterical women?_ she thinks blindly. It almost feels as though someone has shaken her roughly by the shoulders and slapped her severally across her face. But she knows that this cannot possibly be the case- not with Charles Carson here by her side.

"I…I don't know Charles. My head hurts so."

"Cup of tea? Do you want me to arrange for a powder to be sent up."

His dedicated attention to her needs makes her heart overflow once more with the sweet love she holds for him and that was never _truly_ lost- not even in the midst of her rage. A couple of tears trickle down her cheeks again and he brushes at them with his thumb pads.

"Thank you, Charles. I think that might be a good idea for both of us," she replies meekly.

"Good, I will get Jenson to arrange it. It shouldn't take long. Maybe some shortbreads or cake too, hmm? We can take lunch quite a bit later then as well. Mid-afternoon, perhaps- if it suits you- so we have time for a little nap after this tea and then...well...anyway,… we can discuss all the rest later."

Elsie just nods her agreement.

And with that, Charles leans over Elsie and helps her straighten and tie the robe around her more securely before he scoots off to efficiently make their arrangements over the phone with Jenson- scribbling a quick note out for him regarding their late-luncheon service as he is speaking. Then he grabs his shirt and waistcoat and quickly makes himself a little more presentable for this later hour of the morning, and for opening the door to Jenson when he hands him the note, and of course, for the maid with the tea trolley. Then he thinks that Elsie might feel a bit better if she were to dress now too, so he crosses silently to her dressing room to select something for her. But, when he looks to her on the way past the armchairs, he realises that she is probably still too fatigued to bother with full day clothes yet. He will help her with them later- after a nap and a bath before luncheon he thinks. So instead, he selects her lovely nightgown that he has given her so very little time or reason to wear these last days. He cannot help but give a wry little smile at this. _Surely we will be all right?_ he thinks. _How can we not be with this much love between us?_

He looks closely at Elsie's carefully stitched cornflowers around the neckline of the simple and smooth cotton gown. They are lovely- the colour of her eyes in the sheer summer light- and very skilfully done- quite intricate. _Just like my Elsie,_ he muses as he returns to her side with it. And as he sees her sitting so still and so fragile and small, he recalls once again that cornflowers represent delicacy. _How fitting._ But also a Bachelor's love… and given that these flowers of Elsie's will not be fading anytime soon, Charles once more feels assured that at least his love is being returned.* _We will be all right. We will._

oOOo

"Elsie-love. Here. Let me help you on with this." It looks like her every muscle is weary and aches from her energetic outpouring, so he dresses her as carefully as any nurse would an ill patient, only with far more focused and heartfelt devotion. Elsie weakly smiles her appreciation to him when he is done. His dedicated care for her almost brings her to tears again, but she shakily breathes them all back in. _That's enough of all that Elsie Hughes._ She is still admonishing herself _._

Once she is settled back in the armchair with his robe still draped about her shoulders she snuggles into the comforting warmth and scent of her man, but her eyes are glazed and unfocused, and they stare off into nothingness as they both wait for their tea trolley to arrive. Charles stands behind her and lovingly brushes out her hair, which has become quite tangled from their night and morning of passionate lovemaking together. He does his best not to pull too harshly at her scalp, but to Elsie- it feels right. The occasional wrenching brings her closer to earth each time, for the slight pain is the only thing that seems real right now. And it somehow seems fitting too- to have someone do this for her on this strange morning, where years' worth of her quiet stone-faced stoicism and self-denial suddenly shattered and the vulnerable young girl inside of her burst forth in a stamping fit of impotent rage.

oOOo

Just as there is a knock at the door announcing the delivery of their tea, Charles finishes fashioning a light braid into Elsie's hair and ties off the end with a piece of linen he had pocketed on his way back from her dressing table with the brush and her gown. With his equilibrium now somewhat returned through the soothing process of handling Elsie's hair, Charles is once more moving with his usual self-assured grace as he brings the tray to their little side table and pours the tea and serves some cake and biscuits for his very own lady.

"Here, drink this first Elsie-love- it's the powder for your headache."

Elsie winces at the bitter taste, but sweetness soon follows- as it always seems to with her Charles- as he hands her a perfectly made cup of hot tea.

"Thank you, Charles," she says quietly, still feeling a little sheepish for her recent uncontrollable display and wondering what on earth Charles must be thinking he has gotten himself into with this whole marriage lark too. He is sitting in stately silence across from her in the other armchair- so much like their shared times in her sitting room at the Abbey. Only now, their knees are touching and Charles has a lovely melting softness and a slight nervousness to him as he sits in his incomplete grey wedding suit and shirtsleeves and with his hair all messy. Still a true gentleman, Elsie _does_ know it- despite the fact that her pained heart has just intimated something quite different.

Elsie sighs out long. _It is time._

"Charles… what must you be thinking of me now?...For _I don't_ know quite know what I even think of me right now… or of us."

"Elsie-love." He says quietly as he puts his teacup down precisely on the side table and gently places his weighty hands upon her knees. "Elsie, I think that you are my beautiful wife who is hurting right now … and… and... I think that I must love you quite terribly indeed- terribly poorly that you should feel so hurt by something we have shared so closely… and terribly deeply- because I just so desperately want to make you see how precious these last days have been to me and how much I have wanted them to be precious to you too." Elsie's cannot help her eyes from pooling with hot tears again at this. Her head is still throbbing painfully with it all. "Please tell me what you need me to do to make this right again for you, Elsie love."

"Oh Charles, I... I don't rightly know what you can do yet. Don't you see?"

"Well,…then ...maybe just tell me what you feel."

She squeaks out a pained sob from her throat, much like a small animal that has been held too tightly by an overenthusiastic child. "Oh…Charles, …I…I just feel … like… it is all somehow _less_ now _,_ our penny, because of where that penny is from. …I had thought that you had given that to me _all_ by yourself - the coin that had never been used in circulation and so it was just like the two of us- two sides of the same coin kept only for each other over all of these years - side-by-side together- but still somehow shiny and new. And I thought that it was _all_ your own idea and that you thought of it just for me and you were only ever thinking of me with regards to it- just like your letter said - and that it came to me with the same pure intent that you gave me your mother's ring and silk handkerchief, Charles…" and her voice breaks again at this. Somehow it seems foolish and childish to speak of such a silly little thing. But she feels all of this keenly- and mainly because he presented it to her that way- that it was this important to him too, and she respected that notion and wanted to share his joy for them in that way- through their good-luck penny. Normally little tokens have not meant much to Elsie in her austere existence- for she is not a naturally nostalgic person. But this _one_ thing- she embraced the meaning she thought was in it with absolutely everything she had to give. It is the symbol of the space that is gouged deep into her heart that houses all of her love and faith in Charles, and he has somehow managed to twist it within her most cruelly.

"But it _was_ given to you as such, Elsie-love- it is purely _our_ coin." He says very quietly. "And it is solely _our_ love that this little penny houses in my heart Elsie- that is how I see it, please believe me…" And he is pressing and turning the coin over nervously with his fingers as he looks with pleading and doleful wet eyes into her heartbreakingly beautiful red-rimmed ones.

She tumbles her next words out much faster, "But Charles, now it all feels ripped away from me and changed! Your six-pence was all shiny and new and just like us- never used by _anyone_ else before- only _ever_ for the two of us…But… but Charles, now I find that it is yet another…" and she slows as her jaw clenches and becomes set once again- in spite of all her best efforts- for she is still just so mightily _enraged_ by all of this right now, and by the fact that he can still be so _darned_ obtuse about this even though she knows he is trying so very hard to understand and reassure her. She takes a shuddering deep breath and forces her next words out tightly from between her gritted teeth "… but now I find that it is _yet another_ thing that the _Blessed_ Lady Mary has had at _first_ with you!… And that she has managed to keep her greedy and downright ungrateful little hooks in you through it all over again!" Elsie's voice is getting uncontrollably louder again. "And she doesn't deserve it – she doesn't deserve _you_ , Charles!" Elsie's fire is well and truly stoked again now and it is flashing forth from her darkened eyes- her brogue thick with tears to the point that it would be almost unintelligible to him if it weren't for the fact that he is so accustomed to her tones, "It was meant to be _Just Mine,_ Charles! For that  one day!- That is all I wanted!- before I could give it back to you- just one day!...because it is all that you asked for from me and it was really s _oh_ very little to ask of me. And I _wanted_ that- to give you back your little penny- even though I can give you _soh_ much more. But I wanted that _one_ little thing -So much-,…so very, very much, Charles" she sobs out. "Because…because _I do know_ that you deserve it- and if it makes you happy and I can give it… then that is what I want to give you..." and her tears are falling quite freely again now. "But now with that little _minx_ in the mix," she spits out viciously, "it's value has all changed- can't you see that?! And …and I know it makes me sound petty and jealous, Charles- that I covet you so… but I cannot seem to help it – I wanted this to be the  one thing that is shared by _us_ alone, Charles…that the family cannot _ever_ touch, or own above us- ever!… Just us… just… for us…" and she is sobbing quite freely again now.

Charles's heart is breaking for all of her pain and his hands seem to have lost all strength and sit uselessly in his lap. He hurts desperately for all of the things that Elsie has given up to be in service and all of the things she has given of herself to others over the years but has never really had anyone to give back to her in return. Tears pool in his morose dark eyes for his beautiful and giving wife who has never really asked for anything from anyone and has so often received even less. As he blinks his own tears away, Charles silently holds out his lonely hand to at least give Elsie another crisp clean handkerchief from his inside waistcoat pocket and she mops wildly at her face with it- annoyed again at herself for being such an overly-emotional gloic*.

Charles starts to stroke Elsie's forearm to try and comfort her, for he senses that she does not want him to hold her again just yet, what with her rage still spiking through her tears. He feels like he is drowning again with the magnitude of it all, and he really is not entirely sure that he is man enough to fix this at all. But he wants all that they have been together back once more, and he has to try- for there is no one else.

He starts quietly, his voice cracked with grief, "But Elsie-love, it is not theirs, or even _my_ six-pence - it is _ours_. And…and if you will _please_ believe me, I will show you how it always was _ours_ – from the very first moment… but…but… and I know you don't want to hear this, Els… but I have to request that you might at least _try_ to give Lady Mary _some_ credit for having good intentions for someone other than herself for a change…. And…and try to see that I am not so obtuse as to not recognise the same faults in her that you see, or to realise that at least some of this rancour you feel about Lady Mary has built up over quite some years, and especially over the organising of our wedding." Elsie's eyes have struck into his again. She had no idea he was at all attuned to her chagrin over all of that, for she had seemed to be talking to a brick wall at times with him regarding her wishes for their special day. "Elsie, I want you to know that I am sorry for how I handled… or rather, _didn't_ handle all of that."

"Really Charles?" she splutters out unsurely through her bloated tears.

"Yes, Love. Of course I am."

"But why did you never defend me at the time, Charles?" she cries out to him bitterly. "Why did you side with the family so easily and so often above any and all of my own wishes, even when I was telling you _most_ clearly what I wanted for us?"

"Because I didn't know how to walk this new land between us Elsie… or between us and the family. And I know that it is silly, for it is not as if I have not seen enough weddings in the house, and the village for that matter- right from when His Lordship and Her Ladyship's married - through to all of the girls grown and married off… well, maybe not Lady Sybil and Mr Branson…and, well, of course, unfortunately, it didn't all come to fruition with that rascal Strallan and poor Lady Edith… but still… I knew in each case- that what the bride wants is what matters most for a wedding celebration. So,… I should have just … shut my mouth really… about what I thought was right and proper." He quirks a sheepish smile up at Elsie. She looks a little agog right now that he has at least recognised any of this. _Finally_.

And to Charles, Elsie just looks almost indescribably precious right now. He feels the lump rising in his throat again for all of her hurt- when he sees her this way -all tear stained and red-rimmed eyes- and all because of something he could have and should have done for her. And she just looks so terribly tiny and innocent all wrapped up in his huge white robe with her special white gown peeping through with all of its delicate little cornflowers.

But the fire is not gone. _Thank God_! He thinks – _my strong Elsie is still all there for me._ And she strikes flares for him again and he steadies himself this time- bracing himself for all that she needs to throw at him.

"But then you were silent when you shouldn't have been, Charles! When I had to stand before all and sundry and defend myself without you, Charles! You should have stood up for me in the face of Lady Mary railroading us… You… you would have if it was for _any_ other function we have worked on together and we couldn't accommodate all of the _blessed_ family's demands for whatever reason. You have always defended my work decisions, Charles- so why couldn't you stand by me on this?! I have never been so humiliated in front of others." And she seems to growl even lower "Having to explain myself like an errant housemaid - and at my age!- I ask you?!- and in my position in the household too! .. Huphh…" she sighs out loud and breathes in deeply a couple of times to try to calm herself a little, and then she slows, "I mean… I know her Ladyship meant well… but it was all just so _public_. I wish she had spoken to me on my own as she normally would, and then handled the rest of the family's excesses in the background afterwards… But still… it played out that way and that cannot be helped – But what matters, is that I _needed_ you by my side right then, Charles… and you just _weren't-_ not in the way I needed. I had that  right by then- not _just_ as your equal in the house, but most especially as your betrothed."

Charles sighs out resignedly, "You are right Elsie, you did have that right- you _do_ have that right- and I should have defended you. You deserved all that from me … and I was a fool not to see it properly and act upon it all correctly at the time. … For, if there is one thing I have learnt from His Lordship over all these years indentured to him… it is that a man must always defend and support his wife first – in the face of all detractors… not that His Lordship has not faltered, and sadly, in the most tragic of ways at times… but he is just a man, Elsie... as am I … and he has tried and mostly done right by Her Ladyship. But either way, I should have learnt more from him Elsie-love… I know that now… and I know it hurt you and that I should have been standing up for your wishes, and I should have _never_ let them put you into that uncomfortable position. It dishonoured you …and I can only ask that you forgive me, Elsie, for being a terribly foolish old bachelor who has never had to do any of this sort of thing ever before." She squeezes his hand with her own to tell him: _We will be all right._ Charles looks shame-facedly down at their joined hands. _"I…_ I guess I just didn't know how to keep the people I have always worked to keep happy… _happy_ … and you happy as well- all at the same time. Which is silly, really, for it was all so very simple in the end- as our day proved… for they _were_ all so happy for us no matter where we got married weren't they, Els?"

"Well,...I guess there is no denying that fact, Charles…" she replies quietly- her ire having completely run out of steam for the moment and so she softens substantially for him as he looks up into her eyes again- worry still etched upon his face. "And I will never mind their little bit of railroading us into our changed honeymoon, Charles- for who could not appreciate this for a space to holiday in, hmm?…" and she manages to quirk a small smile at the corners of her mouth at this. She moves to pick up her cup to finish the last of her tea and some biscuits, for she is still incredibly parched, and although she does not feel that she can easily swallow any food, she knows that the sugar will do her sore head some good in the long run. It is already making her feel at least a little more human. She releases a long sigh. "Plus, in this case, I sense that maybe it _is_ their attempt to make amends with us for their somewhat pushy behaviour… as pushy as all of this _here_ could seem, anyway- when you think too much on it." And they both huff out small laugh at this particular home truth.

"Nevertheless, Elsie, it still stands- that I did know better, and I did not do my best for you… and I am truly sorry, Elsie, I am….Will you please forgive this silly old man who loves you dearly and hates to see you hurt by his hand…. Please?" he asks plaintively.

"Och, Charles…" Her eyes are glistening again. "My man… Of _course_ you are forgiven, now that I know that you understand me and know to do better now. And how could I not forgive you? I no more want to see you hurt than I want to be hurt myself… and…and so,…I think I am ready to hear what you have to say about our penny" and she looks down at her bare feet ashamedly, "…and…and I am sorry I said that I wished you dead before, my love. That was quite uncalled for," she admits before she shakily raises herself from her chair and moves to go and sit on his lap. His arms open immediately to her and wrap her tightly into him again and he kisses her repeatedly and gently to the top of her head that is tucked safely under his chin as she listens to his anxious, pounding heart starting to calm as they work their way towards agreement again.

"Well, I'll admit that when I have thought on more than one occasion this weekend that you may well be the death of me, Elsie Hughes, that was not exactly the vision I had in mind." He joshes cautiously and with an aim to lighten the mood around them just a little- for the moment at least. He can feel Elsie's face lift a little in a small smile from where she rests it against his neck and he rubs her back soothingly. "Not to worry, Els… I rather think I may have handed you all of the ammunition in _that_ little moment… and I will no doubt be fool enough to do it all again someday." Elsie's tired body shakes a little and she sighs out a small laugh for her man and all of their shared follies.

oOOo

After a while sitting quietly this way, Charles broaches the remains of their problems again.

"Elsie-love… I want you to know that I understand how Lady Mary rankles you sometimes… and I also need you to know that it is not true that I blinker myself to all of her faults. I may never speak poorly of her out loud, but I am not blind or immune to who she can be on her worst days. She has been cruel at times towards others- Lady Edith most especially… and sometimes to his Lordship – and definitely to her own mother!" He says with quite some disgust, "and The Dowager Countess too… although she never gets far butting heads on that front!... But, she is even sometimes mean to me. And, I can only hope that it may not be too often that Lady Mary directs her cruelty towards you, Elsie-love… But I do suspect there is not enough love there in the first place for there to have ever been much lost between the two of you, should that have been the case."

Elsie laughs knowingly at this "N _oh_ , you would be correct in that assumption, Charles. But she has had little need to ever cross me personally in that way."

"But, Elsie, I have actually thought that maybe she is only cruellest, or at least freer with her flippant disregarding comments, when it is with those she loves the most- or at least those she is most secure in thinking will not ever completely forsake her- no matter what her mistakes may be. Which seems odd, really- to lash out unprovoked at those you love and who love you… And well, then she does have that especially fractious relationship with Lady Edith that I have never really understood. It makes no sense, because ... sisters are sisters for life, really, aren't they, Elsie? They will likely be stuck with each other for the most years when you think on it."

"Aye, I do know that much. And I cannot deny having had my own moments of catty behaviour against my own sister, Charles- and she towards me. But I would think that most girls would grow out of that childish behaviour in better time than the Crawley sisters have managed. I have never understood why Lady Mary and Lady Edith have not done so… Well, … I do think that Lady Edith has at least distanced herself from it all a bit better these days… and she does not rise to Lady Mary's bait quite so much anymore."

"And you don't even see the half of it, Els! Lady Mary does an inordinate amount of fishing for trouble with Lady Edith, and at the dinner table as it is. She seems to want the captive audience to see the mess all unfold as she flounces out before any of the dust can settle. And even after all of these years- I still don't really know what it is that she is aiming for in goading Lady Edith so. And I _do_ wish Lady Mary would grow out of it too, Elsie. I really don't quite know why she cannot seem break these hurtful habits she has." Once more, Charles insights surprise Elsie. She really had no idea he saw any of these things this way. "All I know is that, when it has been against me… and it has hurt me, I'll not deny it… it has been when Lady Mary is at her most insecure with her life- like with the move to Haxby. She was almost like a scared and cornered little animal lashing out back then. … He scared her. That Carlisle scared her, I think…"

"Aye, he had a right mean streak in him, that one- and no mistake- and never clearer than when he broke the Pamuk scandal all across the nation.

"Hmmm.. he is a vile man…But, anyway, Lady Mary- she was never one to lie down and play dead in any games, not little Miss Mary." And a loving smile climbs his face at his memories of her in her sparky youth fills Charles' mind briefly.

"Aye- I have seen that in her too, Charles. But, I guess, for me, I just resent that she cannot treat her one constant champion, outside of her own parents that is, with the respect that _you_ deserve Charles. I find I cannot love her for treating you thus."

"I know, Els. And you do not have to love her. But I am glad that you at least respect my love for her. For I am afraid that I cannot stop that feeling for her. But, I certainly do not want you to _ever_ feel that it would come between us, Elsie-love- or the sanctity of what we have – especially now as man and wife... And you have seen that I _will_ put other concerns ahead of hers. Because, sadly, I have had to forsake her in her hour of need in order to protect _myself_. And I _have_ left her to sort out her own problems without me there to support her – as when I refused to go with her to Haxby.

"You would have been miserable there, Charles."

"I know that, Elsie- but don't you see?" He lifts Elsie's head gently in his hand and looks deep into her eyes, with his other arm still encircling her waist - even as that hand keeps toying with a small note on fine parchment sporting the script of an elegant and strongly feminine hand over Elsie lap "…That it all proves that I can and _will_ continue to forsake all others for you- just as I promised you two days ago. And so, I want for you to read this letter Lady Mary wrote to me before our marriage, Elsie. The one where she gave me our penny for you to carry. For I think it might at least show you that she is asking for forgiveness for her behaviour about our wedding reception… which I know you will not find it written in those _exact_ words in the note, but given what I know of how Lady Mary is, I hope you will agree that she has as good as asked for forgiveness… But mainly Elsie, I would hope you see it as I do now… and especially now that we are both ready to retire… that Lady Mary is a bit more ready to grow up now- and to wave goodbye to me a little as her _sort-of-father …_ and protector… which, I do hope that I have somehow been an extra father to her, in my own small way over all these years- and in a way that even His Lordship seems to approve of and want."

"Probably because Lady Mary was always more than he could handle alone, I would wager!" as she huffs out a small sound of humoured disbelief at the hard-to-handle young woman. "But I do know that you have been that for her, Love. I do accept that part of you, really- but just not the stranglehold Lady Mary tries to use on you sometimes, that's all."

"I think I understand that. …But Elsie, I think this letter is actually Lady Mary accepting the changes ahead… and accepting that she cannot have that, or try that with me anymore- that everything is changing for her and she must work with it- as much as _we_ both have to, Els- for these changes cannot be stopped- you taught me that,... and really,… I think that this letter- it is Lady Mary recognising that I was actually _never_ formally indentured to her at all…but to her father and his father before that. I was His Lordship's man… and… and… so, just as his Lordship understands how he must put Lady Cora before all others in the room… within his acceptance and support of our marriage, Elsie, he has, in fact, released me from that life-long commitment I gave to him and his family.… That is how I see it now… That is how I believe _he_ sees it- for His Lordship was _always_ willing to release me if I so asked it- even to go to Haxby….and … and it might seem silly for a man of my age to feel he must have some sort of permission from another man in order to marry the woman he loves more than any other… but… I guess I have lived my entire life in service, Elsie- beholden to others… and I …I needed that confirmation in some way… someone who could make it clear, perhaps not in so many words, but make it clear that I am a free man enough to make this choice… to live this life with you at my side…and ..to just _go_ this other way with you…really...and so I am now. I am." And he holds her eye unwaveringly once more, "But Elsie, I cannot really think of myself in terms outside of what I have lived by for my whole life … so just know this- most truly- that a man _cannot_ serve two masters, and so I am _only_ indentured to you now, Elspeth Mae Hughes- that is the truth I live by now. I am _your_ man now."

Elsie presses her forehead heavily into his. _My precious man. He really does give all that he has to give._ And tears of pure love now fall from her eyes onto his cheeks. "You are at that," she snuffles out thickly, "You are my man…and a very fine and good one you are too. And I only hope that I can still prove woman enough to take you on…and to deserve you."

"I have never doubted that you are, or that you do, Elsie-love."

"Thank you for that." And she smooths her hand across his cheek, softening into him even further. "But really Charles… I will _never_ be able to see you as my servant, for beside anything else, we all serve God as our only true master- do we not? And so you can, and will, only ever be this to me, Charles Carson, - You are my _equal_ …and my _partner._ And you will just have to learn to live with _that_ new idea if we are to ever be in agreement again!" And she places a messy little kiss on the tip of his nose with her bright red and tear swelled lips. And Charles has never been so grateful for such a small gesture in all of his life. _My Elsie is really coming back to me,_ he thinks gleefully, _and I am a free man and a far better man when we are side by side._ And his eyes shine brightly with relief and love for her.

"Well, then that can be my life's work from now on, Elsie- for I shall need a _proper_ occupation in my retirement." He joshes lightly again as she finally smiles into his face and starts to smooth his unruly hair back from his forehead. "But Elsie,…with our penny, I… I know it hurts you that it came to me via Lady Mary's hands… but I think it is because Lady Mary has come to that very _same_ realisation about me now with regards to you. …So,…will you read this now, Elsie, …please?... or I could read it out to you. For, I think now that I almost carried it on our wedding day because, well, it _was_ a kind gesture of hers and I appreciated it on that level and I do care still care for Lady Mary's good opinion of me… but really, it was because, in a way- this is like my release papers from my indenture to the _whole_ family, Elsie… and certainly, it is the release of any notion that I was ever indentured to Lady Mary specifically. And… given how all of this hurts you, Elsie… I can only hope that you will see it the same way that I do now… and that we can heal this thing that has come between us… because I do not want to lose you over all of this Elsie-love- I want our sweet memories back to share with you… and I just want _you_." Tears prickle in his eyes for her and his voice is thick, "and I am still more sure of this than anything ever before in my life, Elsie- that I want _you."_ And he leans his head heavily into hers again- just to breathe her in.

And with his explanation finally over- he places Lady Mary's letter fully into Elsie's hands. Elsie has listened carefully to all that Charles has said and has watched, slightly mesmerised, as he has slowly flipped the letter and the sixpence over and over in his great hand resting in her lap. Elsie has listened to him carefully, because she really does want to hear him - just as she promised him- and because she really does want what he wants too, and to do that, they really do have to be in agreement over these big things that truly matter to them. The perceived dangers of electric toasters and a Labour government are very small beer indeed when compared to the fate and value of their single silver six-pence that they try to hold onto between them. And Charles is at least now feeling secure enough to know that a quiet and intent and listening Elsie will not tear the whole letter up in his face.

She reads.

oOOo

 _Thursday 27_ _th_ _May, 1926_

 _Dearest Carson,_

 _Having been raised to understand that to speak openly of financial matters is at the very height of vulgarity, I shall say only this- that were I to now repay you with full interest for the six-pence you lent to me over thirty years ago, the amount due to you would, sadly, still only equate to an embarrassingly paltry figure._

 _Instead, I ask only that you take the enclosed newly minted six-pence as a gift of luck to give to your own noble lady for her to carry into the village on the occasion of your wedding. I must ask that you both now accept this penny as the final and proper payment due to you for all of my former childhood and childish debts._

 _Additionally, I would ask that both you and Mrs Hughes accept this as symbol of the very deep gratitude that I feel for the unwavering dedication and quality of the services you have both rendered, not only to me but to the entire Crawley family, over so very many years._

 _Know that any interest attached to debts incurred by me, from either of you, is in the form of this small token being imbued with an equal measure of every kindness, every prayer, and every wish and hope for continued happiness and good fortune that you have ever seen fit to bestow upon me._

 _Yours, as ever, with the highest of esteem,_

 _Lady Mary Crawley._

 _oOOo_

Elsie silently reads the note through twice. Indeed, there is much that is not said openly, but that is to be expected really. The fact that Lady Mary admitted to some childish debts along with the childhood debt of a sixpence is quite and admission for one so haughty. And Elsie can appreciate the difficulty of recording such a thing in black and white and forevermore for someone of Lady Mary's station- and to a servant no less. But Charles has always been so much more than a servant to the Crawley family, really. And indeed, Elsie does not think that she would necessarily be able to admit to the same sort of thing in such a permanent form should the need ever arise for her. _Perhaps I really am as stubborn and proud as the Blessed Lady Mary is!_ Elsie realises with a flash. She breathes out a long relieving breath and sees that Charles has been equally shallow of breathing since she started reading.

"Well…?" he asks with that nervous school boy way he sometimes has with Elsie.

"Well. … Lady Mary writes an elegant prose. …Perhaps your services were called upon to teach her the finer points of letter-writing too, Charles. I did not know that to be the standard jurisdiction of a Butler in a grand house." she finishes, trying to inject a little more levity into their conversation once more.

Charles appreciates the compliment wrapped up in a gentle ribbing from his Elsie for what it actually is- a peace offering. And so he decides to answer her seriously. Besides, he does not think Elsie is quite ready to parry with him again just yet. Their connection is still too fragile right now.

"No, Elsie, maybe a little hand scripting in the back pages of my ledgers when she was a lass, but I think her skills in letter-writing may be better attributed to Her Ladyship… But do you see now- that it was written for both of us, Elsie? The whole thing talks about _us,_ Love- and the sixpence she chose was not given _just_ to me- but for me to hand onto to _you_ and it is for _our_ marriage. It is a gift- pure and simple- with no expectation put upon me or you to owe her or give her anything in return. Please tell me you see that, Elsie. I want for us to share _our_ lucky penny again together- just us." And he looks at her so hopefully through his worried dark eyes.

Elsie remains silent for what seems an interminable amount of time to Charles, but finally she answers, "Yes, Charles, I do see it" whispering low into his neck, now feeling desperately ashamed for her recent rabid fit of pique about Lady Mary, but more so for her temporary mistrust of Charles and his clarity of intentions with their penny. She nuzzles deep into his chest at the gap where his top buttons are undone and she cannot help a few more tears dropping hotly onto his skin. She blinks rapidly to clear them. _Enough water has been spilled for all of this now, Elsie Hughes. Your heart is far from broken. Dry your eyes and face up to this all now, lass._

Elsie reaches to Charles' hand that is still resting near her waist as she perches on his lap, and she runs her finger tip over the edge of their six-pence that he has been rubbing between his fingers all this time- as if wishing it would magically make some sort of genii appear to grant them their greatest desire- which is really just for peace and agreement to exist between them again. But these intermediaries do not exist- certainly not in a marriage- so only _they_ can help themselves to fix this whole crazy mess up. She stops him rolling the penny about in his fingers and opens up his palm to set it to rest safely within that broad and steady expanse as she continues tracing around its edge, re-acquainting herself with its every nuance, as they start making clearer heads and tails of one another again. Charles sighs out with a shuddering and heavy breath of utter relief to see her starting to accept the symbol of them as a couple once more, and more importantly to him- the embodiment of his promise to her before God, and his pure faith in her as his wife.

He speaks low to her about how he sees this gift.

"Elsie, this may have been given to me, but Lady Mary was only showing me something that was always mine alone to begin with- and mine to share fully with whomsoever I should choose. And I choose you Elsie-love to share this with. I chose you then and I would you choose you over and above all others, again and again. I could never have married anyone else, for I could never hope to have this love I have for you with any other person in the world, Elsie- only you- I told you that when I asked for your hand… _finally!_ " And she snuffs a little laugh out at this too. "… But Elsie, I never expected anything from Lady Mary at all, ever. This gesture is the sweet unprompted thanks from a daughter or a friend- and the moment it came into my possession- the moment I realised that what it truly represents was _always_ in my possession anyway- the coin was then purely and completely for us alone, Elsie- as much as the dress from her Ladyship, or even my mother's gold ring. They are gifts with no expectations attached to them by the givers- and those objects do not embody their givers within them, nor do those people, or our memories of those people, colour those gifts for us. Nor can they colour how we may share them with each other in our private time together. This coin is the same. All of those people- they all of them…disappear. And that leaves only _us_ and our very own tokens of love. And…and with this coin especially, like my mother's ring- it was actually re-forged by _us_ – by _our_ promise to each other before God, and by what _we_ share- _no one_ else. And so, it is shaped anew – all of the time, Elsie- into exactly what _we_ want and need it to be for as long as we both hold onto it. I have never seen it any other way, Elsie-love- from the moment it dropped out into my hand from Lady Mary's letter- for she left it to me to read privately, you know- and then… I just knew I had to write you that letter on our wedding eve, to give you it and those other gifts freely and unreservedly in that way. And I never expected you to hand this penny back to me if you did not want to, Els. I am just so incredibly glad that you did, though. But really Els, Lady Mary's letter just gave me the prompt and the final push I needed to try to tell you all that you mean to me. And in that, really, Lady Mary has given me much more than even she could ever realise. And so, I cannot be anything but grateful to her- for it has all brought me closer to you, a chagair… So, … so do you believe me now about our six-pence?"

Elsie sits and breathes through all her thoughts for a while. Her headache is now a dull throb, but it is subsiding. Still, everything seems to be trudging heavily through her brain and heart at the moment- looking for a break in the weather and a clear path home to him again. And, of course, in Charles- built of his words, she does find it again, and so then she is ready. "I do," she states as simply and as clearly and as surely as she did two days ago in church to her man, as she looks him unflinchingly in the eyes once more. And as she caresses his cheek, much more quietly, she tells him "I am sorry I ever doubted you, Charles, when I have always known you would never take on any task in this life half-heartedly, and when I have always known you to be a man of integrity and honour. I don't know why I lost sight of all that so quickly just then… it…it shames me."

"I do not see you with any shame about you, Elsie-love. I only see a beautiful proud woman who mistook for a little while that what she so richly deserves could somehow have been taken away from her by others. And Elsie, … _I believe_ that is what that declaration Reverend Travis made at the end of our ceremony means- it is not a warning to others, but a simple statement of fact- "What God hath joined, let no man put asunder." Elsie, no one person can _ever_ touch what we have. It cannot be taken away, even if they tried. It _cannot_. Not this. For no one has any power or jurisdiction over me to take the love I have for you away, Elsie-love. _No one_. And no one else will ever have a part of our special memories that we have made alone together, a chagair. That is the truth." And he dusts the smallest kiss across her lips. Elsie feels quite overwhelmed once more, but in the best of ways this time. _He is so very beautiful and true- My man._ And they just hold each other tightly and quietly for a while, until Elsie decides to place a warm and sure kiss upon his cheek.

Charles chuckles lightly at this.

"What is it, Charles?"

"Well in the interests of honesty, I had best tell you… It's just that… you happened to remind me just then of one other thing Lady Mary said when she dropped off that letter to me."

"Am I going to _want_ to hear this?"

"Oh yes, I think so.' He smiles reassuringly at her, "You see, she asked me if she might kiss my cheek, like she once did as a child- and I thought it odd that she would suggest it at all… for I had not read her letter at that stage, you see, and so I could make no connection to that day I convinced her not to sell his Lordship's silver." And he smiles again at that old, sweet memory "And anyway, she just said that it was because she felt it may not be seen as the appropriate thing for her to do on the actual wedding day…and that the future Mrs Carson would probably not appreciate it either."

"Well, perhaps she understands _me_ far better than I have credited her with!" Elsie manages to reply light-heartedly- for she recognises the innocent intent behind Charles telling her any of this at all now, and really, she can now at least acknowledge the deep respect that Lady Mary must actually have for Charles, and for her too, on some level. "And so did she kiss you, Charles?"

"She did."

"Well then, I would still maintain that she got the better bargain out of you, Mr Carson." And Elsie smiles slightly at this, for she really does mean this without a hint of malice for the young Lady anymore, for she does know now what being able to kiss Charles Carson is truly worth.

"Oh, I still don't know about that Mrs Hughes," he says to her with a similarly dreamy smile on his face to the last time he told Elsie the story of young Lady Mary and a six-pence, only this time he knows it is for a far different reason. "For you see, she said something to me as she left my pantry, Elsie, that made it all seem like a big goodbye from her, but it was not a sad goodbye, mind you, and especially not once I read her letter."

"Oh?"

"Yes, you see, she said this to me: 'Carson, I have learnt some hard lessons over these years under your watch, but the surest one I know, especially after this last year I have had, is that one must only ever give their kisses to those who are truly deserving of one's love. And I think I learnt that from Mister Matthew, really,… and I had just forgotten it. …So, ...just…be sure that your wife never forgets that, Carson." And then Charles kisses Elsie ever so tenderly on her cheek, and then softly on her lips and then he speaks against them, "And if that is the last task I am ever set to undertake in this life, Mrs Elspeth Mae Carson, it will surely be the sweetest- for that is exactly what I intend to do- to make sure that you never, _ever_ forget." And he kisses her hard and pours all of his love that his beautiful wife so richly deserves into it.

After they breathlessly break apart. Elsie manages to pant out against his lips, "Well, it now seems sure that _I_ am actually the one that got the better bargain after all," and her broad smile has returned and she places more kisses on him with every renewed and fresh breath she takes for him, "My lovely Mr Carson …Charles…my husband…and _my_ man."

CECECECECE

And now that all is understood and all has been forgiven, and now that their hearts and minds are aligned and in agreement once more, Charles quietly suggests that they take a lie down to rest again. For Elsie still looks somewhat brittle and weary, and all of this turmoil after their lovemaking has weakened Charles slightly, too. Elsie nods in agreement and lets him guide her off his lap and onto her own chair momentarily as he quickly sets all of their empty dishes on the trolley again and wheels it out to the floor lobby to be collected by the maid. On the way back to her side, Charles briskly straightens and re-tucks the white sheets of their bed. They are not perfectly crisp anymore, not by a long shot, but they will do. _Elsie would want them straightened_. Charles then returns for his wife and picks her up easily from the armchair, leaving the oversized robe behind.

"You don't have to do this Charles, I'm not a wee bairn- I can walk."

"I know, Love, but I want to." And he cradles her closely, all the way back to their bed, then places her ever so gently upon the smooth white sheets. Her new pale gown melds with its tones so that as he gazes upon Elsie briefly before undressing fully again to take his place beside her, she appears only as small patches of light pink petals – her soft skin floating in a sea of midsummer white clouds—her delicate feet, her supple hands, her neck and her divinely expressive face with full red lips and her still swollen, but freshly brightened blue eyes shining above it all and with a single garland of the bluest cornflowers gracing her neck- she is just so different for him again- so delicate and fine- tragically beautiful. And _oh so_ pure.

Naked once more, Charles lowers his great frame beside her as carefully as he can and faces her fully on their sides with their hands tucked up between their chests. He takes their precious penny and runs its edge back and forth over the side of her index finger and thumb until she slowly unfurls her hand fully to him again. He gently places the coin back into her open palm and heart and curls her fingers around it to secure it next to her gold wedding band and then he locks his great hand over the top of hers.

He whispers with heavy conviction across her face. "I will carry and keep this safe for us all the days of my life, Elsie-love. Just hold onto it for me now, though. Keep it safe for us and re-forge it for _us_ as we find your joy again. Let me help you _soar_ again- away from these dark clouds," he whispers across her tear-stained cheeks, and presses soothing kisses to her swollen eyelids _. Beautiful and precious. My wife_. "Let me see you as you truly are, a chagair - surrounded by the purest white… My bride. My one. My love. Let me help you find your joy."

 _My beautiful poet-lover. My man._

She sighs out her relief that they have somehow made it back from this horrid abyss of misunderstanding and pain.

And with that knowledge in their hearts, Charles once more starts to delicately explore Elsie's body with his tender fingers, over and beneath her pure white gown- tracing lines of love upon her still fragile skin, strengthening her with his love, fixing them both together again with his healing touch and his feather-light kisses and his words brushing elegantly over her soul, and weaving their love tighter and stronger than it ever was before to make a new picture of them both together.

He kisses the tips of her toes and along her delicate dancer's arches to the tops of her feet and over her sensitive ankles, and then all the way up her strong lithe legs that currently lie heavy and torpid beneath the remains of her exhausted grief- but open to him- trusting him again. And it is everything. _Everything._ He takes it all as the faithful welcome and the gift that it is as he murmurs 'I love you' repeatedly between his soft kisses as he moves slowly up her legs and comes home to her centre once more – to bring her pleasure from his very presence in her life, and to taste once more her bliss upon his lips.

Very slowly and gently, he kisses and laps at her, for there is no rush- not today. Today, there is world enough and time for both of them and for all that they need and want of one another, and for all that they have to share. He nuzzles deeply into her and inhales all of her fragrant, luxuriant beauty. He imagines that if ever he were to kiss the gates of heaven it would be just like this- this utter bliss, as he feels her rise beneath the softness of his lips and tongue and she lets him drink the nectar of her splendid soul so gently and so slowly. In their shared euphoria, his soul sings once more for the closeness of her- for the gift of herself that she freely shares with him and he sings in joy once more. He is humming lightly, but increasingly hungrily over her tiny and sensitive and perfect bud of life as his tongue moves to caress the delicate petals of her fully flushed womanliness as he moves to draw each clear and new breath for her. Her vibrating joy is building and he tastes more and more of it upon his tongue. He pools her sweet nectar under his tongue in a moment of pure communion before he drinks her very essence into his soul. And her legs are finding their strength once more, and her hips are dancing so very beautifully within his hands again. She is coming back to them. Strong and soft and sure, his Elsie-love is returning – in full and glorious flight- he can feel her starting to soar and she is just so, _so_ beautiful- so free- as she shimmers to her peak across his lips and tongue.

 _God, how I love this moment!_

 _I love her, God- I love her_ _so_ _much._

 _Thank you for this beautiful life you have placed into my hands._

 _Make me worthy of it._

Charles gently guides his Elsie back to them and then moves up to see her blissful and relaxed face and to feel the breath of her life rising and falling rhythmically past her lips. _So very beautiful._ Calm has returned- his gliding Elsie has returned for them! His heart is full and his eyes glisten for her joy. The poetry has returned as he cups and holds firmly to the still gleaming and quivering delight within her core- prolonging her pleasure for her as he rises up to share her joy with her again. He clasps his other large hand once more around her own small hand that has not let go of their six-pence – not for a single second.

"Take it, Elsie. Take this joy again." And he kisses her softly and deeply between every word that he feels forming and rising from his very soul for her. He breathes their truth into her mouth- the poetry that only she can inspire in him, and that only she will ever hear- whether he speaks it aloud or remains silent. He whispers most secretly to her now. "Taste it, Elsie. Taste your joy as I do, pretty Elspeth. Take your strength. Take our friendship and your grace and _all_ of my admiration- take your beauty as I place it on the pink petals of your rosy lips. Take this sweet nectar from my lips. Drink it in- for it is you and it is us. Elsie-love… Drink from me and feel our joy. Taste the love upon my lips- my fascination for your womanliness- your true beauty- pure and lovely like the petals of a white carnation. Hold onto your passionate love from the petals of the reddest, deep burgundy rose of you- all of your precious and unconscious beauty." His words and the pressure of his open palm upon her and his broad, steady fingers so delicately caressing her most intimate and soft, dew-dropped petals sees her rising gently again and she mewls out her pleasure for them once more. _So perfect. "_ Taste it, pretty Elspeth. Taste it all again." He whispers in sultry tones as he licks and nips lightly at her grief and love swollen lips and his voice mesmerises her once more. "Taste the exotic wonder of that unfurling rouge foncé orchid of your most intimate places. Rouge foncé." He draws out the French vowels for her in his rich deep voice and she shivers all over for him. _So sensuous._ "And know, lovely Elsie, that only _I_ will ever know of this treasured hiding place and all of its delicate secrets. A chagair, know that I will always protect and honour this private space we share together. Feel the bliss that I have drawn from those secret and delightful enfolded places- taking it all onto my own tongue. Drink it, lovely Elsie. Drink the sweet ambrosia of _all_ of our combined bliss. It is golden orange honeysuckle in the warmth of the sun, a chagair- the secret, deepest bonds of our love… it is our most devoted affection. My Love" he continues kissing her passionately and slowly to her open and gasping lips "My love…it is full and lush and flowering just for us- and it shines just as truly and as brightly as your eyes and as the fullest field of the bluest most delicate cornflowers on full display in the summertime- all of that unfading love that we return to one another- my love—my sweetest love— _taaaste_ us _ss_." He breathes out long and steamily into her mouth. And Elsie is now moaning and sighing constantly into his own mouth, the high and pleasant melody of her desire is the music to his lyrical song of love. "Taste us once again upon the very tip of your tongue, a chagair. Take our forgiveness and find our love again, and take your joy from my lips- like the purest yellow rose- mingled forever with my own happiness. My Love- _Evermooore_." This word whispered long and low into her mouth and soul sees Elsie to her languid shaking peak once more and she sighs out long and high and so completely into his mouth- " _Yessss…"_ It is as if she is breathing the mingled soul of them out before him- placing it in his safe-keeping while she sleeps- for his final words see her settle peacefully into his arms once more to seek her now happy and safe and exhausted rest. "Never forget this truth, pretty Elspeth. Never. A chagair, I am here with you, my lover, and you are here with me and _we are_ \- we are _all_ of this love - together alone…My sweet."

"Charles" she still reaches for him in the whisper of her dreams.

He kisses her tenderly upon her now unfurrowed brow and keeps his hand locked above her tiny fist that keeps their precious six-pence safe.

Serene.

Still.

He holds her.

 **CECECECECE**

 **I hope I got Elsie right in this one. She is a tricky one to write. I would really appreciate any reviews you can spare the time for as I would like to know how the angst worked/ did not work – whatever the case may be- and if the resolution rings true.**

 **Many thanks,**

 **BorneToFlow : )**

 **AUTHOR NOTES:**

 **As before, I have recognised an influence well after the writing if this. This time it is the poetry of the late, great Leonard Cohen-** _ **Take this Longing**_ **. It is from the 1974 album** _ **New Skin For The Old Ceremony.**_ **(Fitting hey?- serendipity strikes again!)**

 **Here is a video link that someone put some lovely images to: watch?v=Y2cafzCEokk **

Many men have loved the bells  
you fastened to the rein,  
and everyone who wanted you  
they found what they will always want again.  
Your beauty lost to you yourself  
just as it was lost to them.  
Oh take this longing from my tongue,  
whatever useless things these hands have done.  
Let me see your beauty broken down  
like you would do for one you love.

Your body like a searchlight  
my poverty revealed,  
I would like to try your charity  
until you cry, "Now you must try my greed."  
And everything depends upon  
how near you sleep to me

Just take this longing from my tongue  
all the lonely things my hands have done.  
Let me see your beauty broken down  
like you would do for one your love.

Hungry as an archway  
through which the troops have passed,  
I stand in ruins behind you,  
with your winter clothes, your broken sandal straps.  
I love to see you naked over there  
especially from the back.

Oh take this longing from my tongue,  
all the useless things my hands have done,  
untie for me your hired blue gown,  
like you would do for one that you love.

You're faithful to the better man,  
I'm afraid that he left.  
So let me judge your love affair  
in this very room where I have sentenced  
mine to death.  
I'll even wear these old laurel leaves  
that he's shaken from his head.

Just take this longing from my tongue,  
all the useless things my hands have done,  
let me see your beauty broken down,  
like you would do for one you love.

Like you would do for one you love"

 **CECECECECE**

 **Somewhat archaic terminology used:**

 _ *****_ **fillip** **(v.)**

 **mid-15c., philippen "to flip something with the fingers, snap the fingers," possibly of imitative origin. As a noun, from 1520s, fyllippe.**

 **. ?allowed_in_frame=0 &search=fillip **

****** **gloic** **\- Scottish Gaelic for idiot**

 **CECECECECE**

 **~ Thanks** **must go, once more, to Edward Carson. This time for the turn of phrase- 'glistening menace', which was used differently and more expansively by EC in a letter to me, but I liked the poetry of it and stole it for our Elsie in the depths of her pain. I hope you do not mind EC- when you do eventually read this! : )**

 **CECECECECE**

 **The language of flowers-**

 **I have felt that Charles and Elsie would have been well versed in the symbolic meanings of flowers- both having seen to the various floral arrangement in the house over the years and both having lived in the Victorian era when such things were really popular due to Old Queen Vic's interest in it. I have drawn the meanings of these different flowers in this chapter from a couple of original books – available in full PDF- as follows:**

 ***Floral Poetry and the Language of Flowers -1877. /stream/cu31924068941578/cu31924068941578#page/n14/mode/ **

***Kate Greenaway's - Language of Flowers. 1846-1901**

 **/details/languageofflower00gree**

 **Meanings are not entirely consistent across these sources, nor did they really cover some of the exact sentiments I wanted for this chapter. Many books on floriography were released during Chelsie's lifetimes so I have played with the idea that the meanings could be different from those found in these two most famous books of flower meanings. As such for the sentiments I was covering in this and the last chapter, I used this website also: www. languageofflowers .com**

 **I have it that yellow roses do not actually denote jealously for Charles and Elsie. Although, it is not entirely inappropriate given Elsie's initial reactions about Lady Mary commandeering Charles' life. I want it more for the other meanings I have found, though- forgiveness and joy and happiness.**

 **I see the flowers as representing these following things for Charles and Elsie in this situation. Keep in mind that roses in a general sense always denote love- but surely we all know that! And I chose seven flowers because it is an uneven number… and well because- that is what works better artistically…, plus five flowers didn't cover all I needed to say for Chelsie whilst still keeping the four flowers I had already introduced with regards to them in this story (the cornflowers- Chapter 11; the white carnation – Chapters 14 and 19; and of course the deep red (rouge fonc** **é)** **Cattleya orchid of mature feminine charms, and the yellow rose of happiness and joy of the last chapter- 31).**

 **So, this is what I chose with the meanings I found across the aforementioned sources.**

 **1.** **White carnation-** **p** **ure love and woman's fascination. Good luck also.**

 **2.** **Orange Honeysuckle** **– bonds of love- generous and devoted affection- and rather lovely to smell and taste too (it is edible)- hence the name honeysuckle in the first place**

 **3.** **Red rose** **- passionate love/ ****Deep burgundy rose** **-unconscious beauty (I kind of wanted both these meanings, but not 8 flowers, so I made it a hybrid in my writing!)**

 **4.** **Yellow rose** **\- happiness and joy, and forgive and forget (can mean decreasing love, or jealousy- possibly appropriate for this chapter, but I prefer the other meaning for Chelsie methinks).**

 **5.** **Pink rose** **\- friendship, grace, admiration**

 **6.** **Deep Red Cattleya Orchid** **– luxury, fragrance, mature charms. Feminine beauty. (all quite obvious when you look at orchids of course) google/Wikipedia Cattleya orchids for the history of when they were found and lost and found again and then cultivation in places like the UK began- kind of interesting and it gives a greater air of secrecy to the symbolism of orchids for our heroes here too, I think. Lady Slipper orchids are actually even more reminiscent of feminine 'charms'- especially some of the deep red- black ones, and it was my initial choice, but they are meant to denote 'capricious beauty' and so would be totally inappropriate for Elsie.**

 **7.** **Blue Cornflowers** **\- delicacy and bachelor's love- if it does not fade- his/her love is returned. Funny thing is, I chose this on a whim for the flowers on Elsie's nightgown way back in Chapter 11- and only now have sourced the meaning for it- and it all worked in quite well, in the end, I think.**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Thanks for reading and maybe even reviewing!**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow : )**


	33. Chapter 33- Delicate Negotiations Pt2

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 33- Delicate Negotiations Pt 2.**

 **A/N:** **Rough time for these events- I am plumping for 1:30pm-ish, maybe a bit later. Very late lunch served around 2-2:30pm- 3ish. This is because their original waking time must have been around 5am- worked out from May 2016 sunrise and sunset times in London (shudder- that is an ungodly hour to be waking up everyday!). Anyway, suspend your disbelief for Charles and Elsie actually being able to stand upright at all after the morning they have just had - particularly emotionally. Still, I maintain they are used to a lack of sleep and are quite physically fit due to the nature of their work. It is fiction after all- have fun and run with it, I say, for I cannot be completely accurate all of the time!**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow**

 _ **CECECECECE**_

 **Monday, 31st May, 1926**

" _My Love-_ Evermooore _." This word whispered long and low into her mouth and soul sees Elsie to her languid shaking peak once more and she sighs out long and high and so completely into his mouth_

"Yessss _…" It is as if she is breathing the mingled soul of them out before him for his safe-keeping while she sleeps- for his final words see her settle peacefully into his arms once more to seek her now happy and safe and exhausted rest. "Never forget this truth, pretty Elspeth. Never. A chagair, I am here with you, my lover, and you are here with me and_ we are _\- we are all of this love - together alone…My sweet."_

" _Charles" she still reaches for him in the whisper of her dreams._

 _He kisses her tenderly upon her now unfurrowed brow and keeps his hand locked above her tiny fist that keeps their precious six-pence safe._

 _Serene._

 _Still._

 _He holds her._

 _ **CECECECECE**_

Feeling herself tightly and solidly embraced, Elsie blinks her heavy eyes awake. They still feel a bit swollen and, given the amount of tears shed earlier, they are now quite dry and sore. But the first thing they see is their hands still locked together over their silver penny. Safe. She moves her head from where it had been tucked into Charles neck and she gazes up past his jaw line to his soft cheeks and eyes closed and relaxed in peaceful slumber once more, her eyes then glisten anew for her beautiful life with her most wonderful poet-lover. She stretches up to place a firm kiss into the strong cleft in his chin. It feels as delightful under her lips as it does when she places her little fingertip into it. _Life is good,_ she reminds herself. _All_ of him fits so perfectly together with her it seems- in the end.

Elsie's muscles are all little sore from their various activities- both loving and fractious, but she knows that it is all part of the natural healing process. She is well rested now, and quite sure that after a warm bath she will be more than ready to face this bizarrely new married life of hers with a fully functioning brain and heart once more. And bathing is, of course, one of the new pleasures of this married space she most decidedly wants to share with Charles again. But she does not want to leave his side to organise it without telling him where she is going given how tenuous their connection may still seem to him. She decides to rouse him gently.

"Charles, my love," she whispers quietly as she kisses him once more to that little cleft.

"Hmm" he answers sleepily.

"Charles, I am just going to go draw a bath for us. Meet me in your bathroom soon, please? And afterwards, we can have some lunch."

He squeezes his fingers over her left hand that keeps them so intimately bound, and his other arm tightens around her again as his eyes open to her with a dreamy and quite satisfied smile playing about his lips.

"How are you feeling, Love."

"Much better thank you. Did you rest well?"

"How could I not with you in my arms, my dear?"

"Sweet man," she smiles lovingly at him and kisses him surely on the lips.

"You are beautiful, my Elsie-love." He murmurs against her lips.

"Hardly! My eyes are still all puffy I am sure."

"You are beautiful, Elsie. Please Don't argue with me on _that_ point. I love you."

"I love you too, a chagair. Will you join me in that lovely big bath then, Mr Archimedes?"

Charles huffs a small laugh, "You needn't ask twice- and I shall trust your discernment of water displacement properties above mine any day, Els. I shall be right along."

oOOo

Elsie ties her braid up in a knot with its own length to prevent it getting too wet and is already in the bath when Charles glides in in the altogether to join her once more. Her eyes already feel better for the steam in the room, and she is beginning to think she may even start looking human soon. Despite Charles' assurances, the sight that greeted her when she passed the looking glass earlier was a _little_ frightful.

"Come sit with your back to me, Charles. It is my turn to wash your hair I think." For his hair, most assuredly carries her heady scent on it, and since Elsie now has half a mind to go for a short walk with him in the sunshine later this afternoon, she does not feel comfortable with him quite so obviously sporting his love for her in public _that_ way. Although it does still make her smile impishly just to think of it in private. _A stroll will be nice,_ she muses, for Elsie is not used to be so totally cooped up in one small room all day long. Even on her busiest days at the Abbey she normally tries to find some brief time in the day to step outside and take some air. Today, especially, it does seem that it might do them both some good to brush out the cobwebs, even in the bustle of the big city. The expanse of Green Park is just outside their window, and it does beckon.

She takes her time massaging the soap into Charles' thick hair and enjoys the feeling of the silver threads sliding through her fingers as she rinses the suds away. _Very distinguished,_ she thinks- and certainly not of the first time. She smiles happily at this new small pleasure she has to share with her great man. Charles' eyes are closed blissfully, and he sighs most contentedly for her loving care of him again.

 _Thank God. She still cares so much for me- loose-tongued fool that I am._ He reminds himself to be much more careful with the thoughts that tumble through his head and unheeded off his tongue in the aftermath of his ecstasy with her, or at any time really, in the future.

When his hair is done, and all swept back from his forehead again, Elsie continues with rubbing soap over his back and enjoys the slick slipperiness of her fingers gliding over that broad expanse and then she places small kisses over him wherever she pleases. She especially likes the feeling of his silvery pitchfork scar _. Strange really,_ she thinks as she runs her closed lips back and forth over its length. Maybe it's the softness of it- it helps her see the youth still in him- although his cheekiness with her when he is in a playful mood does an equally fine job of that! And she smiles into his back at this. There are so many stories his body can tell her it seems- and he commands it all in such a true and dedicated manner, just for her. She feels warm and blessed, and so very loved by him. Her heart flutters at the thought of all the years she hopes they still have to share so closely. She splashes suddenly through the water as she grips around him from behind with the full strength of her arms to hug him closer to her as a few tears of relief and gratitude film across her eyes for all that he gives her.

"I love you so much, Charles" she whispers into his skin, and hopes that her tears sliding warm onto him remain indiscernible from the water of their cleansing bath.

His hands clasp strongly over hers on his belly, and he rubs over her fingers with his.

"Hmmm…I love you too, my pretty Elspeth." And he sighs out happily "…Come."

And he unlaces her fingers and somehow manages to turn his huge frame around in the bathtub to face her. She has to laugh a little as her Mr Archimedes still managed to slosh a decent amount of water over the sides of the bath with his movement. He takes the soap from her and has his turn running his warm hands over her arms and around her back, before taking an inordinate amount of time rubbing languidly over her legs and belly and her breasts- a dreamy smile rising over his features as he feels their smoothness and softness again, and especially as his ministrations manage to make her nipples stiffen under his palms once more.

"Char _r_ les," Elsie intones with a light warning in her voice. "Let's not get carried away again- lunch will be here soon, will it not."

"Let it go cold, Elsie."

"Charles!" She tries again.

"Els-siiie!" he retorts like a recalcitrant child, not at all put off from his most focused intent. He just cannot get enough her. And it _is_ their honeymoon, after all… and he did have all those particularly grand plans for today, did he not? "Turn around Elsie," he insists as he bends forward to capture one of those little-rippled buds in his mouth anyway, to ensure it is completely cleaned by his wet tongue.

" _Charrles"_ she moans at the sweet sensation- shocked that she can still find these deeply sensual feelings so easily now, even after reaching her heights with him so many times already this morning. "Charles- don't you ever stop?"

He mumbles into her soft, warm flesh, "Oh, I am afraid I am quite stopped for the moment, dear wife… but I _have_ discovered this rather delightful thing about you see, Mrs Carson… that you have a far greater capacity than I to find your pleasure... hmm… over… and over…mmm… and over again… and… mmm… I told you already that it is my greatest pleasure to give you that… hmmm," he moans hungrily as he kisses lightly at her other breast and her hands clutch strongly into his hair as Elsie's head lolls back a little as that special loving warmth they share radiates throughout her again.

" _Charles_ ," she breathes out heavily, "I may not be able to walk ever again if you keep this up today!"

"Nonsense, Mrs Carson. For I find you to have the strength and stamina of a highly trained dancer… and even if you can't walk, I shall carry you most proudly… hmmm," he hums happily over her nipple- making her hold him to her breast even more firmly.

"I'm sure you will, you cheeky rascal," as she ruffles his hair lovingly, "if you know that this hmmm…oooh…is what has caused my temporary incapacity. Oh. Char _les. Charles_ . How do you keep doing this to me?… You make me feel _soh_ good."

Charles releases her from his heavy kisses and guides her to turn around and rest against is chest as he continues with his slow massaging of her breasts. He whispers hotly into her ear, "Because I love to… and because I love you," and, he cranes around to peck her on the lips before nuzzling more heavily behind her ear. "Anyway, need I remind you of my grand plan for today, Mrs Carson…? Hmm? To make mad passionate love to you as often as we can both manage – and I do try to be a man of my word, as you know," he joshes lightly. And then sets Elsie off moaning again as he pinches a rolls those little perfect tight nipples a bit more firmly between his thumbs and fingers as he squeezes heavily into that amazing, surrounding softness. _Oh, this woman is divine!_ "And now, we have all the wonders of floatation to aide us in the fulfilment of all our desires, Elsie. Hmmm … didn't Mr Archimedes discover the theory of that too?" As his hands keep gliding through the water, to trace over the delightfully buoyant dips and curves along her sides.

And in this moment, Elsie really has no idea about what that ancient man may or may not have discovered, she only knows what this lovely grand man right behind her is so adept at discovering with her. Charles starts kissing and sucking along her still slightly stiff neck muscles. _Ooh…_ _He can massage me like this anytime!_ is all Elsie can think right now. And the only thing she can actually articulate anymore is her increasingly long and low moans of pleasure. Frankly, it is just is not in her to argue with anything right now. Not after the morning they just had to traverse- there is simply no way she can raise herself out of the bathtub just yet, and he is just _soo_ very good at bringing her pleasure. It all feels so terribly decadent. _Well, … that was always in the plan for today, wasn't it?_ she thinks fuzzily… _and this is my one and only honeymoon after all!_ So Elsie accepts it all, for if this is what makes Charles happy and she can give it… well then… who is she to argue?- it is _exactly_ what she shall give! He really does ask so very little of her for himself. And the bare truth of it is- there really is nothing to be in disagreement about over _this_. A happy smile rises over her face. _Oh, yesss…life is very good indeed._

So, Elsie happily relaxes back into all of this wonderful floating dream once again as Charles explores her body quite thoroughly, revelling in the vision of his very own faithful and intoxicatingly beautiful water nymph*. A force of both nature and of the senses embodied in his beautiful, enticing and passionate wife- right here in their private space outside of time itself. _Just like a Gainsborough_ , he thinks once more as a hugely gratified smile graces his adoring face _._ She thrives and blossoms under his touch as once again he fulfils her entirely. His fluttering fingers caress her lush petals so very gently until she floats surely to the surface again, leaving the depths of any pain they felt earlier behind her – and splashing her own Archimedean share of water out of their bath as she shudders open in a spectacular bloom of delighted pleasure before coming to rest, weightless, within his open palms once more.

"Oh, Charles…Charles… my man. Hmmm..." and she turns her head to kiss languidly beneath his jawline and releases her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bath to feather her fingertips across that special little dip in his chin again.

"Haaah..." she sighs out lethargically, "you know, you really are going to have to lift this lump of melting jelly out of the bath again if I am to have any chance of making it to the lunch table." And with her renewed joy of life, Elsie's true giddiness and hilarity returns as she laughs out, "Unless of course, you would prefer to keep me here as a wrinkled up old prune!" And they both laugh heartily at this truly blessed state of affairs.

"No, give it a few more years yet before we worry too much about that state of affairs for both of us I think, Mrs Carson," Charles states with a chuckle as he starts to manoeuvre himself out if their rapidly cooling tub- ever so glad to have his lively and witty Elsie back by his side again.

oOOo

As they lovingly dry each other off from their bath, Elsie mentions her desire to go for a short stroll in the sunshine after lunch.

"I thought maybe we could take a short turn about Green Park this afternoon, Charles, to get some fresh air. What do you think?"

"Well if that is what you want," and he ducks his head to kiss under her ear where her hair is still damp, and some lovely little ringlets have worked themselves loose from her braid. Elsie plans to not get her hair too wet in the bath were somewhat ruined by Charles' amorous attentions." Hmm… but it will interrupt my grand plans for this day of endless lovemaking I am afraid, I actually thought I was managing rather well in fulfilling that particular schedule of events." He smiles cheekily against her skin.

"Well indeed you have been, Mr Carson," she says as she physically grasps the sides of his head and lifts him away from her, lest he gets carried away- yet again! "But I rather think that you need to be taken out to cool down a little, Charles! Why don't you think of it as an afternoon constitutional so that you may better recover your faculties for later, hmm?"

" A constitutional! That sounds like you make me to be an invalid already!"

"Well, I think we can safely say that is _not_ the case after the morning I have had! But, as I said earlier, I may never walk again if you keep this up right now! Besides which, I don't know about you, but I am not quite used to being only in one little space all day long. So! Mr Carson, will you walk out with me later, please?"

"It would be my pleasure- if that is what my lady wants, then that is what she shall have. I was always willing to adjust _some_ plans as necessary for today….but, only if will you wear that lovely blue skirt for me again today. It is ever so lovely on you Elsie. I like the way it moves…hmm..." he remembers it dreamily from the other day, "especially how it floats and sways just above your delicate ankles."

And before she knows it, Charles is trying to ravish her neck all over again as visions of her sensitive ankles under his tongue appear in his mind. She bats lightly about his ears. "Now stop it, Charles! Honestly! How on earth am I going to control you when we _do_ step out together! "

He groans disappointedly, "Grrrm…You will never have a chance to step out when you are in this particular state of undress, pretty Elspeth….maybe you should wear a hessian sack- for I am not sure that blue skirt is going to stop me, either!"

Elsie scoffs at him "Well, I guess I could at least dress the hessian up with that lovely necklace you gave me."

"Grrr… oh…that definitely would not stop me either- hessian sack or no!" he tells her with a pained expression on his face.

She just chuckles again on her way out the door to see to her clothes in her own dressing room, lest Charles' imagination runs away with him… and her- too soon again!

 _Incorrigible!_ Elsie smiles to herself in the mirror as she finishes pinning up her hair, now looking and feeling decidedly more human, despite a slight liquid shakiness she feels in her legs at the moment. _The walk will definitely do me some good_ , she affirms to herself. She decides to risk Charles amorous overtures in public and wears her new pearl necklace along with the blue box pleat skirt anyway.. because… _well…_ _Why not?_ Elsie thinks that London affords the chance a little more than Scarborough to wear such finery.

oOOo

Now that she is seated on the balcony and awaiting the delivery of their meal, Elsie realises she is actually ravenously hungry. She looks around their quarters and is tickled once again at the opulence and style she has been allowed to relax into these last days. A genuine pleasure it is to be surrounded by good things and most especially, to be surrounded so totally by a good and true man.

 _Life is good._ The refrain keeps running through Elsie's mind as she sighs out happily.

Charles has taken delivery of their lunch trolley and dismissed the maid, for as much as Elsie has said he does not need to act as her servant, he really does not mind doing it, and he just wants to be completely alone with her, no interruptions. That is one of the greatest pleasures he has felt this weekend- that he can actually complete a full conversation with Elsie without being endlessly interrupted. He finds himself thinking that retirement cannot come soon enough.

As Charles goes to place Elsie's meal before her, he sees that she has moved his place setting to her left-hand side and he quirks an eyebrow at her, as he automatically goes to adjust the spacing of the cutlery a perfect knuckles length from the edge of the table. Elsie smiles knowingly at him and just says, "I am not quite used to sitting across the table from you I find, Charles.

"Well, I must say, I do prefer to have you always at my right hand too, Mrs Hughes."

Elsie loves the way that Charles is happy to mix about their various names for each other from the past and from now in their brand new life together. And as much as she adores being the new Mrs Carson, it is as if they don't have to fully let go of the good memories and the history that is attached to each of the versions of themselves that makes them who they are today. It has become a new secret language of sorts- where certain connotations that only the two of them fully understand can be bandied about between them surreptitiously. She smiles back to this morning. _Just never, Charlie, no matter how cheerful he may be,_ she reminds herself, _But at least now I have the redoubtable 'Carson the Magnificent' to add to my list of names for my man! I like that version of Charles- he's a good one that! Full of larks. What fun!_

She reaches for his arm automatically at this thought, to brush her hand over his sleeve, but as she does so, Charles places a small white cardboard box into her hands instead.

"Oh! What's this Charles."

"Just all the things I needed you to know this morning, wrapped up a bit more neatly than I could manage it perhaps… Please open it."

"You really are showering me with gifts this week aren't you?"

"As I said before, you deserve it." And he bends to kiss her lightly on the tip of her nose.

Elsie lifts the lid on a beautifully arranged nosegay** of all the flowers that Charles composed his poetry around and used to swathe her body in a shroud of pure safety and pleasure just hours before. _As if that hadn't healed all their pain and worries enough!_ Elsie thinks as she marvels at the fact that he has once more gone a quite unexpected extra mile in his care for her. Elsie feels overwhelmed once more. She is fairly certain that her man is actually far more beautiful than any flower arrangement that could be put before her. And as much as she insisted that Charles stops getting so carried away with kissing her earlier, she finds herself immediately on her feet and throwing her arms around his neck to thoroughly kiss him all over his great big silly beautiful head. It is so easy for him to lift her off the ground, and Charles is so pleased with her outpouring of affection that before long his big belly is rumbling with his laughter and jiggling her about in his arms. He eventually touches her feet back to the ground but keeps holding her firmly about the waist.

"Happy, Mrs Carson?"

"How could I not be, Charles, you darling man. And how on earth did you even get this arranged? For haven't you been with me the whole time when I was asleep? And there just wasn't time for any florist to put this together as we bathed."

"Are you sure you want the 'Great Blundering Carson' to reveal this secret too?" He asks worriedly, suddenly not so sure about how much they should continue to dwell upon all the morning's events.

"Oh, I think you should know that I will always welcome back Carson the Magnificent into my arms, what with all of his many secrets and tricks! I was just musing on what a wonderful version of _you_ he is, Charles. So tell me, given our 'busy' morning- when did you organise this? Yesterday sometime?

"No Elsie. I just scribbled a note out to Jenson when I was arranging for our tea this morning. I figured in a city the size of London, in this part of town, there would be a florist who could source all these summer flowers, the orchid included, by our afternoon lunch, or at least by the close of the day."

"Well, I am mightily surprised you could even think straight enough to pen _any_ note at that moment, Charles. You surprise me yet again."

"Well,… I think I was probably just grasping onto anything I could think of to make it right with you in that moment, and so I remembered the flowers we have already shared… and just added a few really- the honeysuckle and the roses were easy additions to remember the meanings of- and I saw those cornflowers briefly on your gown the other night… and they matched your eyes.. so would never forget those."

"But then all your poetry so soon afterwards, Charles" she strokes his arm slowly and speaks with blushed secrecy to him "Charles, it was just so wonderful…How do you come up with all of this?"

Charles just shrugs and reddens a little at her compliment. "I don't know Els,… it is just as I said, I guess, that I have found my muse in you. I am just glad you think it is not ridiculous."

"Never Charles, it is beautiful and precious to me. You can tell how I appreciate your words- surely you have no doubts about that after this morning. I feel like I am the luckiest girl in the world when I am with you. And she stands on tiptoes to kiss him slowly again. Tears of happiness and gratitude glistening in her eyes once more.

 _There is that colour!_ Charles thinks gleefully, _T_ _he colour of hope!_

He shrugs again "I love you. That's all, Elsie."

She kisses him one more time quickly and states assuredly, "And a very grand thing I find it to be, Charles Carson. I love you too. _But,_ I am rather hungry now, so will you stop waiting table, and sit with me please, oh husband-of-mine?"

"My pleasure" he smiles back, rather chuffed at his latest success in romancing and pleasing his Elsie.

oOOo

They eat in relative silence and indulge in the new pleasure of being able to touch their legs together under the table and not feel the immediate need to pull away from one another. And then they can also freely reach for and brush each other's hands at the table top whenever the mood takes them. Elsie takes great pleasure in gazing at the little posy Charles has had made up for her. And Charles takes pleasure just in watching Elsie doing so- seeing various thoughts and emotions flicker across her face and eyes as she takes it all in.

To Elsie, the arrangement keeps changing its nuanced meaning each time she looks at it. Sometimes she will focus on just one stem, like the yellow rose of forgiveness and joy and happiness that is at the centre of the arrangement. And she thinks how appropriate it is for it to be placed there, for if they could not forgive each other, there could never be such happiness as they have obviously found at the centre of their marriage at all. And other times she feels for the interplay of the meanings of the flowers together in different combinations. They seem to float in and out of focus in different ways. Like the red cattleya orchid- which she cannot help but blush a little as she remembers _exactly_ what Charles believes it to represents. But it is a strong bloom of both their mature charms really, and it sits proudly within a garland of their bond of love- the golden honeysuckle around it, and the pink rose of their friendship and admiration rests over one of the orchid's sepals. And then the cornflower that peaks up through those bonds of honeysuckle love too, that can mean their love is unfading, but that it is also delicate, and needs to be carefully nurtured and looked after. The whole arrangement is delightful and endlessly fascinating to her – and that that makes her think of the white carnation that Charles wore as a boutonniere on their first lovely evening out together as man and wife and that he proceeded to love her with so beautifully and delicately on their first night in together as man and wife. She smiles at that truly lovely, albeit risque, memory. She loves it all. She wants to drill the vision of this arrangement into her mind forever and always be able to remember all the beautiful memories and meanings they have found together on their honeymoon- to be able to call on it for comfort and a reminder of good things when times might seem dark. _For here is all our love wrapped up in one perfect, poetic bundle,_ she thinks. And an idea forms in Elsie's mind for just how she can always keep this particular set of memories forever close.

oOOo

Later, as Charles is busy pouring some fresh tea for them, Elsie finds herself toying with the remains of the lunch on her plate. She feels frustrated because something has occurred to her that she would rather not think on at this moment- not today, and not on their holiday at all. _Why do the rest of the world and all the people we live with have to creep into our special time alone,_ Elsie thinks somewhat peevishly, for their morning together has been far too delightful, despite their earlier misunderstandings and strife. Elsie's time with Charles has been intensely beautiful and so very precious to her- to them both. She is annoyed that thoughts of a negative nature should once again seep into their almost perfect cocoon of loving intimacy that they have been able to share in their room today. She shakes her head and huffs audibly- trying to shake it all from her mind, but Charles notices.

"What is it Elsie, is something bothering you? Something wrong with the food?"

She looks up at him and feels a twinge of guilt, for he is being his most wonderful self, yet again- ever attentive and completely concerned for her. And he is currently so totally innocent to the fact that what is bothering her in this moment is actually, sadly _him._

She sighs long again. _Oh, well,_ she thinks _, we have agreed that we wanted to know each other's minds, and now we are married, I guess there is no more hiding these things for long. No time like the present as they say_.

"You know Charles, I... I … well something just occurred to me while I was eating … and it is something I would really rather choose a far different time and setting in order to broach it with you- for this morning has just been so perfect- when we have not been stumbling through all of our mistakes and disagreements…and when I have not been acting like a petulant child, that is,"

"Never petulant, Els. You had every right to be upset with me in that moment. You know how sorry I am."

"And _you_ know it is all forgiven now. And really, earlier was merely a poorly chosen moment to mention something like that, that is all."

"Yes, well, I am afraid Carson the Magnificent's stage timing did falter quite spectacularly there!"

"Hmm yes, well – it did seem to give my jealous streak the bait it needed to rise to the top of the stream! So, we both have room to make improvements in this little song and dance double act of ours, and that's no doubt." And he smiles at her for her deft analogy to their future hobbies in retirement, and that they both played an equal part in the troubles they sorted through together in the end. Nevertheless, he most certainly never wants to make a hobby out of being in a state of disagreement with his Elsie. "Anyway, it is done, as you said, and I do now understand you and your changing attachment to Lady Mary much better. No, a chagair, you must rest assured that this morning and this whole holiday has been truly wonderful, my love."

"Well then, if I am forgiven Els, perhaps you ought to forgive yourself too then. I do. And I won't ever hold the feelings you had this morning against you. I promise. For, besides anything else, everyone needs a decent cry every now and then, and I would wager you have had fewer opportunities for doing that than some others over time. So, please let that all go now, Elsie… can you?"

"I suppose I should, hmm… I guess I have just never been in such a state about _anything_ before Charles. I am still shocked by myself about it all."

Charles just leans over to kiss his wife, deeply.

"What was that for, Charles?"

"Well, you just seemed to need another reminder there- that no matter what, you are deserving of all my love- and so that means my kisses too." And he ripples happily all over at her and at this lovely circumstance he finds himself in, and so Elsie finds that she cannot help but break out in a big grin too.

"You are a very dear man; you know that Charles?"

"Mainly with you, I think you will find, Els. If you care to remember, I can be a bit if an old grump a lot of the time at the Abbey."

Elsie smiles knowingly at that.

"I guess we both have our moments with that don't we, hmm?"

"Perhaps, anyway, why don't you tell me what is on your mind, for I rather think that if we can make our way clear of our misunderstandings this morning… we may well be able to make it through anything. Hmm?"

She smiles gratefully into his eyes. "I think you might be right there, Charles. Just know that I do not want to hurt your feelings now at all- and I certainly don't want to come into any state of disagreement with you about these thoughts I have had. Certainly, not right now."

"Well, you do have me a little worried, Els, but we _are_ stuck with one another now, so let's have it."

"Hmm…well I am a little worried too, but I assure you it is nothing as…fraught as where we found ourselves this morning, love. You see it is just this niggling thought that just won't go away, and I don't think it will go away until I can understand it… lay it to rest with you. Will you try not to be too upset?"

"I can certainly try, Elsie-love. You know I like to be in agreement with you. But I hope I haven't done something to upset you or hurt you again these last hours."

"No, no, of course, you haven't- not these last hours. They have been perfect, as you know."

"Then what is it, Elsie."

"Haah," she sighs out long, "Charles, this is something that popped up quite a while back…before our agreement to even marry. And, I just let it slide, maybe ribbed you about it a bit at the time… spoke my mind… but did not expect you to change your particular view on it and so I let the differences we had on the matter just get pushed aside- you had your stance, and I had mine, and that is what happens sometimes- in any relationship." She is wringing her hands a little in her lap, still very unsure as to how to proceed without this flaring up unnecessarily. She is not angry about it herself, just perplexed. Still, she does not want to hurt Charles feelings, because now that his feelings are so indelibly attached to hers, it means that if she gets this wrong, they will both end up hurting again.

"You are not quite making me feel any more settled with this so far Elsie." But he reaches for her fidgeting hands to steady them with his own this time around. "But, please just be out with it- I know that you won't intentionally try to hurt me. I hate to think what I have done to upset you so, but … _Please_ just tell me what is bothering you."

She strokes his face. He really is so open to this state of being married. _What a gift he is. "_ Well Charles, I guess I just never really understood why you were so against Daisy studying – back before we came to an agreement to marry. It didn't make much sense to me then."

Charles' eyes widen. He is quite surprised that this should be what Elsie has been mulling over so deeply. But then he huffs out a long sigh, for he knows he was probably more than a little unreasonable about the whole thing back then… and the wash up of when Daisy found her voice still leaves him feeling some consternation about the worth of a few dangerous or ill-considered ideas being planted in a mind that still seems wholly naïve to the nuances of the wider world. He is not sure yet that there is anything he can say that will bring Elsie and him into agreement about this particular matter.

Elsie continues, "Please understand that I am not upset with you about it… just… perplexed … as to your stance, that's all. And I guess that it is all making less and less sense to me now as time passes, and especially as we keep knowing each other better and more deeply every day. It all just seems so… contradictory really- to your actual ability to see the changes afoot for the likes of us in service and the need to change with the changing times. …I mean, you yourself said that the nature of life is not permanence, but…"

"Flux" he finishes for her.

Elsie chuckles, relieving some of the tension that had inevitably built between them in the course of this current exchange.

"Thank you. Although I still maintain that that particular turn of phrase does sound vaguely disgusting! Not your most poetic turn ever, Mr Carson!"

"Ha! No, perhaps not!"

"But still, why were you so negative about Daisy trying to better herself through education? I mean, where on earth would you and I have ended up if we had not taken it upon ourselves to always read and further our knowledge? And even for a life in service, we needed more than a basic grade school level of reading and arithmetic - especially at our level in the grand hierarchy, it seems. And now we both know that a life in service can no longer be a guaranteed for the likes of Daisy. So, …why did you begrudge Daisy that same opportunity?" Charles just silently opens and shuts his mouth a couple of times, as if still fishing for some sort of answer, so Elsie continues. "And, well, … then, Charles, you do actually seem to, despite all your claims to being a raging traditionalist for the role of women in society,… you actually do seem to enjoy the fact that I am so well read and that we can converse about the state of the world and politics and art and literature- and well _everything_ really. _A_ _nd_ you seem to respect that I have been ambitious for my career and my independence of means- for you have wanted us in equal partnership with our cottage from the outset. Then you have always treated my role at the Abbey more as your equal at the helm, even though technically you have final jurisdiction over all the household staff. … Not to mention the fact that you have always seen it as Lady Mary's true birthright to fully inherit and run the Abbey, despite being female- and even been impressed by Lady Edith's achievements with her publishing company, or Lady Sybil as a nurse during the war… So, I guess … well…it just makes _no sense_ to me that you would kerb Daisy's enthusiasm, Charles- for you saw no harm in Gwen pursuing extra studies quite some years ago, so long as it did not interfere with her work. And Daisy and Mrs Patmore have done their best to ensure that that did not happen. Why the different approach with our Daisy?"

Charles sighs out long. Now that it has all been laid out before him, Charles is not entirely sure he can even _begin_ to justify his attitude towards Daisy wanting to better herself. But, he thinks of how truthful Elsie has been with him this morning with all of her feelings- having even acknowledged some things about herself that she is not always so proud of, even though those things rarely actually bother him for long. In fact, he definitely finds Elsie's jealousy of his affections strangely gratifying, and her propensity to rib and cajole him exciting and certainly the essence of so much happiness he feels in her presence. And even with Elsie's whip-smart mind and tongue – with which he generally ends up floundering in the wake of her keen arguments- he more often than not finds that she actually helps him come around to different ways of thinking that actually can still sit surprisingly well alongside his core beliefs. _How on earth does she always do that?_ Part of Charles already knows that with this particular stance he will have to capitulate on and agree that Elsie is right to support and help Daisy face the changes in her uncertain life beyond service. For it is true that no one can rely on the permanent patronage of the great houses anymore- Not Charles, not Elsie, not Mrs Patmore, and certainly not young Andrew and Daisy, who have attained so little other learning over the years. Life in service is on tenterhooks for all of them–and not even Lord Grantham and Lady Mary are sure of the future or that the Abbey can continue to provide livelihoods for people within the county.

As he takes a sip of tea to settle his thinking and order his thoughts, Charles realises he may as well admit to his mistake straight away. There is no real defence for the way he was so negative about Daisy's betterment. But he does hope that Elsie will at least understand the reasons for his stance and behaviour back then- no matter how misaligned with the reality of the times they were… and still are.

Charles releases a heavy sigh and gestures with his hands to show he is relenting to yet another defeat of something from his past that he held onto and had desperately wanted to keep real.

"I...I… Guess I cannot really defend my position at all, Elsie."

Elsie blinks rapidly in quite some surprise at him.

"What do mean, Charles? It is not like you to not fight your corner. "

"But I am tired of fighting, Els- for I always seem to be fighting from the losing corner as the world keeps marching onwards. … And maybe me being this way with Daisy was just the last ditch flailing about of a silly old man whose expectations were once more completely out of alignment with the times that he finds himself living in. It's like I told you about the Memorial committee- I just seem to have a set of standards that I think should be applied to any situation at hand, and they often just do not fit with the reality I find myself in or any of the needs of the people around me. And I probably just owe an awful lot of people apologies that I have not felt I could even give for fear that it would undermine whatever small and remaining authority I may be able to claim with them on this increasingly shaky ground I try to hold… and, really, now more than ever, the positions I cling to look to be of dubious stability, if not entirely ridiculous in the eyes of the rest of the world."

"Och Charles, I don't like to hear you speak so poorly of your place in society or your beliefs. I do not want this to make you feel like where you are in life and what you do is of no worth! I did not want that _at all._ I am proud of the man of conviction that you are, and you should be too. For where would we all be if we let go of all of our standards, hmm? Life would be like one of your cricket matches without the umpire in the middle- that's where." Charles has turned his somewhat morose gaze to Elsie's, and it is slowly melting with tenderness for the woman who still sees fit to support and defend him so readily- even when she is at sixes and sevens with him and his views and behaviours. She squeezes his hand reassuringly, "Charles, your standards, anyone's held standards, do matter to the world - very much indeed- especially those that are based on respect, and politeness and kindness, and _quality,_ " she smiles at him,"—as yours are so clearly based on- all of that _style_ that makes life so worth living, hmm ... Charles? — It is about maintaining standards of great quality. Because to me, you have always been surrounded by great quality, and you have aspired to greatness and quality in your own life, and you should not _ever_ run that down Charles- never- it is far too important. And don't forget that _you_ were personally asked to chair the memorial committee because people in the village really do respect you so very much. _And! -_ You should know well enough that you are _not_ a silly old man- for I would never have married a fool- not in a million years, Charles Carson. So! My man, why don't you start from the beginning a bit more, hmm? Why did you think Daisy should not bother with her studies in that first instance?"

"How did I deserve to have such an understanding and supportive woman as you in my life, hmm?" as he squeezes her hand right back.

"Just born lucky I guess, Charles," she smiles back proudly. Now come on- out with the truth, Mr Carson."

Charles groans a little. "Well Elsie, it shames me to say it, but I guess in the first instance, I think I was worried that Daisy was just destined to fail at it all- for, in her immortal words, I was rather afraid that she really was 'as daft as a kipper'."

Elsie laughs out loud at this. "Well, Charles… I can't rightly say that that particular fear did not cross my mind, and more than once too!"

Charles' mouth quirks in a bemused manner. _I am never alone in my thoughts with Elsie by my side, it seems._

"Well, we may have had a moment of agreement in there after all, then, Mrs Hughes. But… I guess I just didn't want her to get hurt and feel bad about herself. She is a good lass, but I guess I have always thought it possible she is actually a few dumplings short of a hearty supper, …so to speak.

"Och dear, Charles, stop it!" She chuckles at his somewhat Patmorian turn of phrase. Charles grins sheepishly at her. "Anyway, although it is a worthy sentiment that you did not want Daisy to fall on her face and be hurt by failure in her studies, it is also true that, unfortunately, that Mrs Patmore's methods of instruction have a tendency to unnerve that child and make her far more prone to making mistakes than would otherwise occur- as far as I see it, anyway. And I believe, they have caused Daisy to doubt all of her abilities in the first place."

"Hmm, yes. Well, Mrs Patmore can take the grumpy disciplinarian approach to an extreme."

"Och, I would say you are the master of that approach Charles, but still, somehow you manage to be gentler about it all- a little appreciative of people's efforts and more forgiving of their slip-ups in the end. … Mrs Patmore certainly can put the fear of the God's into the young ones until they get used to her sharp brand of humour.

"Hmm… Ha! Perhaps it is the sheer amount of dangerously hot and sharp things they see the..." (Charles consciously stops himself saying 'stout') " _f_ _ormidable_ Mrs Patmore wielding at the same time her tongue is firing warning shots across their bows that does that." Charles huffs a small laugh from his nose at this vision.

"Yes, well, I suppose far less damage may be wrought from one of your highly polished coffee spoons than a meat cleaver, I would wager." Elsie laughs with him. "But then Daisy always was much slower than most to pick up on Mrs Patmore's good natured heart beneath all of those thorny barbs. Ha! And there was Beryl- always calling me the Scottish Dragon or Scotch thistle behind my back!"

"You always knew that, Elsie?"

"Och, Charles, we live and breathe under the same roof twenty-four hours a day, and Beryl well knows exactly how far her voice carries in the halls. We both laugh about it now that we are much better friends."

"And yet you still won't trust her with the store-cupboard keys?" he asks incredulously.

"Well… I may understand her approach better, and we may be friends, Charles… but perhaps I have not quite forgiven that slight yet! Nor her calling me _Mary_ Queen of Scots." And they both laugh heartily at the various connotations of that, including Elsie's potential likeness to the _Blessed_ Lady Mary at times. "Besides, I like to maintain high standards in my own work too, you know. I maintain my own traditions- and with very good reason. I like to know the exact figures for the stock in and out- just as you like to accurately run your cellar. And in Mrs Patmore's flurried existence in the kitchen, it is too easy for her to lose track of the key. It is much safer to keep it on my Chatelaine, for as it is, any thefts would always rest squarely on my shoulders in the end."

They both redden slightly with the knowledge that they have both used their positions authority and unquestioned access to the stores in order to surreptitiously take food from the household for other's benefit. It was an awful liberty for them both to take goods without approval, no matter how well-intentioned they may have been in its distribution- it was a still a breach of the household's trust in them both as heads of staff.

Anyway, Elsie continues, "can you imagine the atmosphere below stairs if I gave Mrs Patmore that level of power? She could become quite the tyrant! And besides, I have just always felt it better if I worked with her –to temper any excesses on her part- especially when dealing with suppliers- for they can try to take advantage when dealing with women, and if her tongue gets too sharp, they will try to protect their own pride with some quite underhanded techniques in my experience. So, in these cases, the perceived greater menace of a _two_ -headed harpy rearing its ugly head seems to keep any potential theivers in line. It just took a lot of years for Beryl to see it as beneficial to have me as her ally when dealing with the tradesmen- that's all.

"No, there is certainly not a supplier in Downton or even Ripon and beyond who would try to pull one over on the redoubtable Patmore and Hughes syndicate. Ever the astute people manager you are Elsie." And Charles smiles proudly at his most capable Elsie.

"Thank you, Charles." Accepting the compliment graciously. "Anyway, all that is as may be… but with Daisy, I do think that Beryl being so harsh in her address all the time, I think that sadly, made Daisy feel that she couldn't ever do anything right and so could not ever quite measure up to Mrs Patmore's exacting standards, and really, that means that she has not ever been in a space where she can see her gifts or feel any of her successes for long. But, thankfully Beryl has mellowed with her a little now. They are very close. I know Beryl sees Daisy more as a daughter she never had, and she is the one who has actually encouraged Daisy the most to continue with all her studies."

"I know that Elsie, and as I said, I have no real excuses for my being negative about it. So many things coloured my vision of it all at the time. Not least of which was the odious Miss Bunting being so close to the house all the time. She was unconscionably rude to His Lordship and the whole family on so many occasions- and especially that particular night. Absolutely and unforgivably _rude_. She can have her political views, of course, but that is no excuse to treat people so poorly- people who are trying to be the best people they can be given the circumstances they just happen to have been born into. She never recognised that I don't think. And she was a guest at his Lordships table for heavens' sake! Not even the most ill-educated farmhand would behave in such a manner if they were a guest in someone else's house. And really, as much as Mr Branson, I think, appreciated sharing some of his views with Ms Bunting, it was to his credit that I think he never actually wanted her to be there in the first place."

"No, I did not think he was ever comfortable with it either, Charles."

"Supremely embarrassed by it at times, I actually believe. You know Els, Mr Branson, for all that he overstepped every boundary I held dear when he married Lady Sybil, and he made mistakes that put her in danger in Ireland, but he _never_ disrespected Lady Sybil's family. He sees them, certainly now at least, as the good people that they are- I appreciate that in the young man."

"You did come around to all of that quite well Charles, didn't you?"

"Well… I had to really, didn't I? – for even Lord and Lady Grantham… and even the Dowager Countess, realised they could not stop Lady Sybil doing exactly as she pleased. So, they worked to accept Mr Branson and minimise the frictions really. That was admirable of them in the long run, for they always put the love and the happiness of their child first with those actions, don't you think Elsie."

"I do at that, Charles. And it has turned for the best for all of them, given everything that has happened since, when you consider it. Mr Branson has done well to find his place in the family as …well mostly seamlessly as he has. They now all seem to have great affection for one another."

"That they do. I see His Lordship's regard for young Mr Branson- it is true and deep…But I guess… with Miss Bunting," Charles actually physically shudders at the thought of that harridan, "her being there at all seemed to all be due to the various machinations of the perennially sweet –hearted but somewhat naïve Lady Rose, for she is incapable of ever seeing anything potentially problematic in _anyone_ , and then Mrs Crawley kept stridently supporting Mr Branson having a 'friend' there at dinners and managed to sway Her Ladyship and Lady Mary much more than would have occurred otherwise. His Lordship's instincts and wishes really should have been listened to more closely in that whole affair, then we could have avoided all of that extreme unpleasantness at dinner."

"I think you may be right there. Well, anyway, Charles, even if it had been any other tutor than Ms Bunting- do you think that you would have supported Daisy more?"

"Hmm. Possibly…. but I don't know, Elsie… If I am to be brutally honest, I think my motivations were quite skewed at the time by other things too. I am quite ashamed to admit it all now."

"Well, how do you mean Charles… and you don't have to be ashamed in front of me… I am immensely proud of you; you know that Charles- and especially for the fact that you always manage to admit your mistakes far faster than I seem to admit to my own."

"You do have quite a way about you, Elsie Hughes!" And He shakes his head in astonishment "you do know that, don't you?"

"How so?" Elsie replies- quite unaware of her own powerful influence on others.

"Just the way you always make people feel safe to come to you with their problems and woes, Els. You ever judge it seems… or try to make them feel worse for their poor choices. Or, at least, … you don't let your judgements colour the justice and support you feel all people deserve. Like you did with Ethel, … and Charlie Griggs … and then even when you told me the full story about Edna seducing Mr Branson so as to blackmail him… all of that just appalled me horribly, to begin with. It made me feel indignant and that Mr Branson had no place in the household anymore - until you helped me see it differently- that he made a grave mistake in the midst of his grief for Lady Sybil-and one that was no worse than Lady Mary made with Mr Pamuk in the long run- I could not have seen it that way without you, Elsie. … and then…. you even managed to be understanding with Thomas after that 'indiscretion' with James…So where I was just blustering about in disgust so much- you were quietly holding out a caring hand to Thomas and did not judge _him_ either. And I know I just don't have that in me, Els. - You really are quite an admirable woman, Elsie Hughes. I don't think you realise how great and kind and loving you really are- to everyone." Elsie is blushing furiously at his compliments now- becoming quite coy and fidgeting with her hands in her lap once again. She had no idea he really held her and her views and actions in such very high esteem "- I just… _you_..." he says with a note of incredulity, "you know Elsie, somehow you are managing, even now, to make me feel prouder than I know deserve to be with all of this, for I have been quite rude to Daisy about it all, especially after I know I can be supportive of the young ones who endeavour to advance themselves in life- like I did with Alfred working here now at the Ritz. Oh – and by the way, Elsie, I have arranged through Jenson that we may greet Alfred tomorrow before we leave for the station."

"Oh, that is wonderful! I shall look forward to that and telling Mrs Patmore and Daisy all of his news.

"And there you have it, Els, always thinking of others." And he smiles and shakes his head at this amazing woman before him. "Hmm… but you know, now I do have to wonder about it all – that sort of role that Alfred took on- if it was ever on offer to an equally hardworking girl like Daisy- would I have supported her endeavours in a similar way- or made a raft of excuses because she is a young lass, who is maybe just a little foolish? And it is shameful of me really, for I cannot claim any lofty position of truth in any of it, Elsie."

"Oh, Charles- that you think on any of it at all is admirable in itself. For as much as you compliment me so profusely- I must also say that you are not the great big old curmudgeonly stick-in-the-mud that you sometimes act and make yourself out to be. I see a far more flexible and giving man that hides sometimes, but who very much holds onto my heart, that much is certain, my lovely Charles."

Now it is Charles' turn to redden slightly at her praise for him- even as he is still a little incredulous about her stance with him.

"Hmm…he continues, "But maybe that is just it, I _am_ a stick in the mud- and about all the wrong things sometimes it seems, Els. And really, now you have called me on it, I just feel like a bit if a fool- saying that I don't know why Daisy should need to learn more in her position in life. When really- I do know so much better- for even you and I have had to face the prospect that we need to set ourselves up for a different future- that we cannot remain in service forever… which, yes, in our case is mainly to do with our advancing years, and that we cannot keep up the pace of all this work forever- but I well know how everything has changed since the war what with the huge changes in staffing and how life in service is no longer so secure– I mean, really Els, we are probably the last of the truly fortunate ones, you and me, don't you think? Because we can be planning to leave it all before it collapses totally around our ears- and at least we can be assured that His Lordship, now Lady Mary, will somehow reward our years of loyalty and ensure our security with an adequate pension for the rest of our lives- and not many in the future will be able to boast that entitlement, surely."

"No, I think you are right on that front, Charles."

"And yet, here I have been, trying to dissuade Daisy from her chance to be able to cope with what all those changes will mean for a young lass in her position."

"Then, why Charles? What made you be that way with her?"

Charles sighs out long again, "I don't know, Els… I think maybe Ms Bunting brought out the worst behaviour, not only in His Lordship but in me too. … You see, it is as I have said to you- I feel like everything that I believe in, and everything my life has stood for is going to be held up to ridicule and scorn in the years to come… and then there was Ms Bunting- doing it all- and so vocally and stridently- and _right now_ \- …denigrating all that I have held dear- as if my life was somehow… _worthless."_

"Oh, it could never be that Charles," Elsie whispers to him, her hand reaching to stroke the back of his soothingly.

"… and then, Elsie, I was also right in the middle of trying to work out how to function out in the wider world like Mrs Patmore was quite ready to start embracing -trying to work out what on Earth retirement might look and feel like for me – what I would do to support myself, and us really, and how to occupy myself… and I didn't know if you really wanted any of that with me yet, anyway- or at all, _ever_. Which scared me half to death in itself- the thought of not being _stuck_ by your side anymore. And he looks at her with a wet wry smile in his eyes. "And then I didn't even know how to propose to you or how to even _allude_ to how much I truly love you… I was just _lost,_ Elsie- a scared silly and lost and old lonely man flailing about trying to find some firm footing in the huge sea of change… and I guess… I just wanted to hold onto that part of the past- that concept of indentured service that could actually have a young, and not so smart child like our Daisy kept safe and secure and employed for a lifetime in the one place- with the peerage supporting the poor as best they can. And I guess, now that I think of it that way- it is like Lord Shaftsbury tried to do in his lifetime for others, and certainly as Lord Grantham has aspired to do over so many years too. I was pretending that the Abbey could always provide that to the likes of Daisy- and all of us, really. And then Ms Bunting just seemed to be making such a mockery of all that I have worked alongside Lord Grantham on over the years- in my own way - the support of the people of the Estate through his endeavours. She made it all sound so…so... _worthless."_

"And it is most assuredly is _not_ worthless, is it Charles?" Elsie repeats with greater conviction this time.

Charles smiles at Elsie through his heavily clouded eyes- for her understanding and unconditional support. "No, it isn't." He sounds a little choked up. "But I guess I was just trying to hold on to all of it for a little while longer, that's all, Els. And it all meant that I was rude and unfair to Daisy because of it. I have no excuse, really."

"Well, there is no excuse for rudeness, that is true. But I think I better understand why you were behaving that way back then."

"But –you know, in the end… my life in service, I really I am still proud of it all, Els- all of my life's work. I guess I just lost sight of it for a while. And… you know, it is not all just about the outward _style_ of my work, either Elsie, contrary to how Miss Bunting may see the way that things are done in a great house by the aristocracy, with these dinners and the finery and customs and manners."

"I know that Charles, I think I understand you much better on that front now too… it is about the quality and the hard work and the intent beneath it all, isn't it? – You can't have true style without some real substance underneath it to hold it all up, can you?"

"That is it exactly, Elsie."

"Well, maybe that is what we both saw in what Mr Astaire and his sister do- even though it might seem very frivolous on the surface and at first sight- like a big flashy dinner at the Abbey. But the Astaire's- they work very hard to do something for other people too, don't they Charles?"

"That's true."

"And that is what you do Charles. That is what life in the service of others is, isn't it? - Working hard to make other people's lives better."

"I think that is so, Els. I do really believe that. My support of the family helps them do what they do for others on the Estate. I hope I am helping them to be their best selves- as much as anyone can influence another to that sort of degree. And that is why I could only ever work for a man like Lord Grantham, who truly believes that is his life's work too- to work for the support of others - that is what makes a true nobleman, Elsie, not the birthright or the title or the house or the money. And so I could never have worked for the likes of that vile, ill-bred mercenary Carlisle. Never," he finishes adamantly.

"No, I knew you would not have liked that, even at the time. You really would have been quite miserable. You know, we really do agree on so many things Charles, you do see that, don't you?"

"And I am eternally grateful for it too, my darling," as he keeps rubbing at her hand on the table.

She takes both his hands and encases them securely between her own now. "Charles, You must never let the likes of someone like Miss Bunting take away from what you done with your life or what you have given of yourself to others, and what you can still give to others Charles- for, we both will continue to do that in our lives- helping others within the village when we retire- and through the connection that we will always have to the family and everyone at the Abbey- they are our people- you said so yourself- and that is a very grand thing to be a part of indeed- to be close to others and support them. I do see now how the Crawley's aspire to that- even The Dowager Countess, in her own pithy way. None of the family has ever tried to actively or knowingly undermine the people they come in contact with… well… with the exception of the Dowager and Mrs Levinson, I suppose! And Lady Edith and Lady Mary always at each other's throats, of course! But as I said, there I have had my moments my own sister in the past… perhaps that is the way of all sisters."

"Maybe, Els… but you are also right that both the young Ladies would certainly be far better served if they would move on from that childish behaviour. But, unfortunately, it seems that maintaining a regular physical distance between them is the best we can really hope for most of the year!"

"Sad but true I am afraid, Charles. Hmm…But now I think on it with Miss Bunting, Charles, for all of her radical and liberal politics, she really is quite black and white, and inflexible in the way she views the world- that it all must be one way- and her 'new' way. And In comparison, I think Mr Branson has learnt that there is more to it all than that. He sees the people at the heart of it all and tries to understand that there is more than one way to live well and to live truly. Isn't there?"

"You are the one that has shown _me_ that, my Darling Elsie. How to live well and truly and in a different way. You always help me be my better self. You know that don't you- you always push me along when I need it most."

"Well… I don't know about all that. But, if it does work that way at all, Charles, I would wager it is only because I have been working with a willing participant in these endeavours. For I do not believe that anyone could change that stubborn old curmudgeon Charles Carson's mind in anything really, not unless he was already at least halfway to finding his way there himself in the first place."

"I think somewhere in there, Mrs Carson, you may have just flattered me!"

Elsie laughs heartily at this. "I believe I may have at that- and if I did it is because I will always believe you deserve it- even when you annoy me to the point of utter distraction, Charles Carson."

"Well then, it seems I am a very lucky man indeed…. To deserve your love and kisses." And he leans across and kisses Elsie firmly. "Anyway," he sighs out as he leans back in his chair, "I think I may need to do something to make amends to Dear Daisy- even though a little knowledge has d already grown like topsy in her dizzy little head and overrun any good sense she has ever had at times."

"Lord! You are telling me- what with the Mallerton Hall debacle! But, maybe you don't have to lose any face with her Charles, just use your influence to ensure she stays safe and well cared for- wherever she may end up. And Mr Mason is always there for her too. Maybe just gift her a book and give her a little encouragement- she won't need much- for she has learnt mostly to expect far too little in her life."

Charles is standing now and pulling Elsie into his arms as he feels compelled to spin Elsie in an impromptu dance once more. Humming and mixing up the lyrics of a particularly memorable tune from the stage show they have so recently seen- for the music of that fun night is still rippling through them both at strange intervals.

"Fascinatin' rhythm, you got me on the go, fascinatin' woman... hm, mm mm, mm, mm... Oh, my darling Elsie, how on earth did a silly old duffer like me still manage to convince the wisest and most beautiful… and most forgiving woman in the world to go ahead and marry me?"

"Well… now you are flattering me! But maybe it wasn't all just being born lucky, Charles- now that I think about it- for I am not entirely immune to a bit of romance directed my way from a one particularly fine and honourable gentleman, that much is for certain."

"Well, perhaps you might let this romantic and curmudgeonly old butler drive you to utter distraction … just a _little_ bit more today," as he continues to spin her lightly about the balcony and actually ducks his head into her neck place kisses along that enchanting necklace he is ever so glad to see her sporting again.

"Well, I was given to understand that was to be part of your grand plan for this day, Mr Carson." But as he makes to spin her towards their bed again she pushes her hands to his chest to stop him. "BUT, I must ask you to wait a while for me to recover from your …earlier … _entirely_ distracting behaviours. Plus... I still would like to go for a stroll, and I know exactly where I should like you to escort me now, my dear Mr Carson."

"Oh? And where shall I be lucky enough to parade my lovely wife on my arm this very fine summer's afternoon?"

"Oh, nowhere far Charles, just a short jaunt up Bond Street before all the stores close for the day. I shall tell you on the way. So why don't you just dance me over to that door instead, hmm?"

"Ah- ha! It would be my pleasure… although, I think I should first..." and he swings her ever faster, "dance you to your dressing room to collect your sun hat. Da- da- da-da- da... you got me on the go..." Which is what they do, but Charles insists that Elsie only grabs her hat when he has dipped her into quite a ridiculous back bend over her dressing table- which makes her squeal with delight whilst affording him the opportunity to kiss once more into the hollow of her neck. And once she has her day gloves and purse in hand as well, Charles continues spinning her out of the dressing room and across to the other side of their enormous suite to his rooms, all the time keeping up his little humming version of that catchy tune from two nights ago. Elsie is getting quite giddy by now and her still somewhat tired legs intermittently give out with the speed of his swooping foxtrot, so Charles increasingly just dashes her feet lightly to the floor as he lifts and glides her around their room. "Facsinaitn' rhythm you got me on the go, facsinatin' rhythm, do- do- do- do- do. And _then!-_ I shall dance you _all_ the way across the suite once more to grab my hat and coat… Hm- hm- hm- do- do- do... And then, my dear Mrs Carson… I think we just may be ready to step out again together!" He states jovially. Elsie is laughing like a giddy school girl by now. As they reach their little valet stand and she pulls on her light cotton day gloves.

Then Elsie remembers what her little proposed outing was meant to be all about.

"Oh! Just a moment, Charles, I should like to carry my little nosegay with me today." And she dashes back to their luncheon table to retrieve the lovely boxed arrangement.

"Won't you take it from the box then, Elsie?"

"Oh no. I want to keep it fresh for as long as I can."

"But where are we off to Elsie?" he asks as he escorts her through their door and towards the elevator.

"MacCulloch and Wallis" her brogue rolls roundly over the name.

"Oh dear, why am I suddenly afraid you are about to drag me to a solicitor's office!"

"Ha, not likely! What do you think I am going to do? Ask for an annulment after our first disagreement as a married couple!" she laughs as they step into the lift. "Or maybe I am dragging you along so I can force your hand into signing over all your worldly goods to me in a will so that I can promptly bump you off and live the high life- like a black widow in Wallace novel, hmm?!" she continues ribbing him. And as they see the semi-shocked but bemused look on the lift attendant's face, they both start giggling like silly children together again.

CECECECECE

 **Author Notes:**

 *** On Nymphs: It is important to recognise some of the romantic history of how nymphs in classical culture and particularly in the Romantic arts movements of art of the 17th and 18th century that Charles would have been interested in and viewed over time in the British National Galleries in London. It is actually far removed from how we may see that term today. We can **tend **bring heavy connotations of female sexual excess, dangerous allure used to entrap men and nymphomania as a psychiatric disorder into play a little too much these days, even though those theories were actually developing during the 19th century. Also, these sorts of painting would not have been viewed as some sort of objectification of women as we see in the use of the female nude in our current 21st Century advertising culture.**

 **Instead, for Charles, I see the viewing of such paintings as being more about the essence of mystery, wonder and naturalism to the erotic life. And so now he gets to share that with Elsie- that sensuality is a natural part of his life as** human **\- and of course, this is practised with respect and reverence with his wife. So, Nymphs can be instead be seen as empowered femininity in this context, rather than dangerous. This essay from the Tate Britain around a Bodies of Nature exhibition is an interesting read. And the single Gainsborough full nude of a Nymph bathing (later renamed Musidora) is really the vision I have in Charles' mind for his Elsie as she bathes. It is slightly voyeuristic- yes, but secretive and still natural- set in a space outside of time itself- like an alternate universe- which can be the sense I think honeymooners can get in their little private universe for a short time before the broader outside and 'real' world encroaches more fully on any partnership. And, I think being painted by one of the most well-known British artists would also appeal to Charles. Plus, it is not too highly sexually charged, and so is unlike other contemporary nymph paintings to this one can be- what with leering satyrs all about- those ones can tend to feel that way, and I don't believe they would have been quite so much Charles' cup of tea. I think the delicacy and understated nature of the Gainsborough one would appeal more to Charles- it is somehow not as racy. There is a comforting dream-like quality to this unfinished painting I think you will find. /whats-on/tate-britain/display/bp-spotlight-bodies-nature/essay**

 ****** **On Nosegays: these may also be known a Tussie-Mussie (or variant spellings) and where popular Victorian era flower arrangements to give to someone, where the interplay of meanings of the flowers incorporated in them could be 'read' by the receiver so as to know the givers thoughts and feelings about them- as per the language of flowers notes left at the end of the last chapter. They could be worn on a wrist or as a corsage by the lady. Nosegays, were a common courtship gift in the Victorian era, because their impermanence could assure a young maiden of no permanent obligation to a courting male because of their gifts being too opulent or expensive (which would have been seen as uncouth in a male anyway- like they were trying to buy a lady's affection). **

**I have chosen that Charles and Elsie would not have called this nosegay a 'tussy-mussy', as the etymology of the word is difficult to track, but from this link on the _wide world of words .org_ website  qa/qa-tus ****it seems highly likely that the term in Chelsie's era was seen as a very course word for female genitalia instead. And, although that is not entirely out of lie with what I have actually written and the blooms I have chosen for them!- I do feel that 'A nosegay' seems far more in line with how Chelsie would speak. 'Nosegay' literally refers to how the scents of the flowers would make the nose- happy!- cute hey? Nosegays can still be made by florists, and of course are very popular as bridal posies, where blooms are still carefully chosen for their symbolic meanings.**

 **I envisage only a few more chapters for this fiction now. I wanted to cover some perplexing aspects of canon - especially from S4 and S5 with Chelsie- hence this discussion about education.**

 **I will probably cover just a little more angst, briefly- but mostly it will be fluff and romance to finish it all off.**

 **Fluff and romance only up next, though!**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow : )**


	34. Chapter 34- The Ties That Bind

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 34- The Ties That Bind**

 _ **CECECECECE**_

 _Then Elsie remembers what her little proposed outing was meant to be all about._

" _Oh! Just a moment, Charles, I should like to carry my little nosegay with me today. And she dashes back to their luncheon table to retrieve the lovely boxed arrangement._

" _Won't'you take it from the box then, Elsie?"_

" _Oh no. I want to keep it fresh for as long as I can."_

" _But where are we off to Elsie?" he asks as he escorts her through their door and towards the elevator._

" _MacCulloch and Wallis" her brogue rolls over the name._

" _Oh dear, why am I suddenly afraid you are about to drag me to a solicitor's office!"_

" _Ha, not likely! What do you think I am going to do? Ask for an annulment after our first disagreement!" She laughs as they step into the lift. "Or maybe I am dragging you along so I can force your hand into signing over all your worldly goods to me in a will so that I can promptly bump you off and live the high life- like a black widow in Wallace novel, hmm?!" she continues ribbing him. And as they see the semi-shocked but bemused look on the lift attendant's face, they both start giggling like silly children together again._

 **CECECECECE**

"So what is this MacCulloch and Wallis place then, Elsie?" he asks as they exit the Ritz onto Piccadilly.

"It is a very good haberdasher that I know Miss Baxter buys supplies from for her Ladyship whenever she is down in London. She even has things sent up to Downton sometimes because their range is so good. Some things they stock just cannot be found back home, not even in York – especially for the finest threads. So, you, Mr Carson, are escorting to me to the shops this very fine summer's day."

"And where may I ask, has this desperate need for a haberdashery come from? Not that I mind escorting you to the shops of course, Mrs Carson, if that is what you desire."

"Thank you. Well, you see Charles, during lunch, sitting looking at this lovely nosegay you had arranged for me- it has inspired me to get a start on that counterpane for our bed in our new cottage and I should like to match the thread colours to these exact blooms while they are still fresh. And maybe when we get back later, I will sketch this exact arrangement for the design, and I think I will try to incorporate the same colours of your mother's silk handkerchief to, so that it looks like one is wrapped around the posy stems." Elsie is speaking quite animatedly now, "And Charles, I have an idea for the border, if we can stretch the budget to pay for it, I should like to buy some gold and silver thread for the interlocking of our six-pence and my gold ring that I would like to stitch for the border, well even if I can just manage that for the ones in each corner, although I would prefer them all the way around. Hmm… maybe if I sew with more economical thread and just highlight them each with a little gold and silver thread. Or…, maybe if not that, then more honeysuckle designed along the edges, for that would interlock each side with the bonds of our love, like you said…." Charles is struggling to keep up with the speed at which Elsie is rabbling out her plans. And he stops still in the middle of the pavement on Piccadilly and Elsie is pulled to a halt when is arm is no longer keeping apace with her. "Charles? What is it."

"Well, for a start…I don't want you to make this some sort of exercise in penance because of a simple misunderstanding that we have already resolved this morning Elsie. I don't want you always feeling bad about the way you felt and the things we may have said in the heat of the moment."

Elsie has been looking up at him quizzically this whole time as the crowds have bustled out around them. After a few more grumbles from passers-by, Elsie motions on his arm that they should move out of the main walkway and sequester themselves closer to the shop fronts to speak perhaps a little more privately.

"Come Charles, over here. Now, for a start, I can assure you that this will not become some sort of penance where I sit shedding more tears over things past. When have you ever known me to dwell excessively on things I cannot change, hmm?

"Well ... I do suppose that is true. I said it is merely because of how you mentioned being shocked by your own feelings today. I just don't want you to suffer through doing this, because of the bad memories surrounding all these things."

"Well the way I see it Charles, it's a bit like that photo frame I gave you for your picture of Alice- you chose to see it, and rightly so I might add, as a way to remember the sweet things about her. Whatever happened to that frame, by the way?" she asks suddenly as an aside, for she has just realised that she hasn't remembered seeing it in his office for quite a while now. Where did you put the photo of Alice?

"Hmm? Oh," he looks a bit bashfully at her. "Umm, that photograph is safely boxed away…"

"Whatever for?"

"Well,…you see, …when I was working my way towards thinking how I should propose marriage to you, trying to find the courage- back when we were starting to look at properties together, … I umm, sequestered a small staff photograph and had a section of it enlarged in Ripon. - of us standing side by side, and I have kept it in that silver frame you gave me because, well it seemed much more important that I should never forget the woman I do love now, and to have a constant reminder to myself of what I ultimately had to do so that I could always stay by your side …and… and so I have kept it on my bedside table." Charles' heart is pounding quite fast for some reason, suddenly embarrassed just in telling her of it.

"But Charles! That must be at least two years ago now!" She drops her voice to a level of secrecy "Do you mean to tell me, Mr Carson, that you have kept a picture of _me_ in your..." she pauses dramatically "in your _boudoir_ all this time?" she ribs him mercilessly with a mock-scandalised voice, but with an ever so lovely glint of bashfulness in her own eyes. _What a sweet and romantic man he is!_

Charles looks down at his feet and shrugs his shoulders and nods his head a little, feeling a bit of a fool about it all now, especially given it seemed to do nothing to speed along his proposal, in fact … it may have even slowed him down at times, as the spectre of her possible refusal terrified him into floundering inaction on far, far too many occasions. But as he finally looks into her eyes- he sees that most delightful light-filled smile of hers that he absolutely lives for, and he cannot help but grin like an utter fool.

"I guess we really did make it in the end, though, didn't we Elsie?"

Elsie reaches up and cups his face with her smooth gloved hand. "That we did, didn't we, Charles," and she reaches up to give him a little peck on the lips. "And despite it seeming a little risqué, I am ever so touched that you thought to keep me close to you in that way, Charles, really." He looks down bashfully again. " _And_ if I had known it … you old romantic duffer," as she taps her finger into the cleft of his chin, "I would have given you a lock of my hair in a heartbeat to put with it."

Charles looks up again to see if there is another ribbing twinkle in her eyes at this last statement. But he actually finds her looking quite seriously at him.

"W- wouldn't that have been a bit old-fashioned for the likes of you, Mrs Hughes?"

"Would you have wanted it, Charles?"

He is shuffling somewhat nervously now from foot to foot as he looks down at them again.

"You will just think me silly and sentimental Elsie, but I would have loved to have courted you properly. I know it sounds terribly old fashioned, but I would have. Part of me wishes I still could. I would have been so honoured to have been given a lock of your hair, Elsie. But I think I would have put it in my pocket watch perhaps, to carry with me every day." Elsie's heart swells at the thought of it of this one man's devotion to her.

"You old booby," she says, feeling a little choked up herself, "then that is what you shall have." She smiles up at him with glistening eyes. "I did grow up in the same century as you Charles. I think it is a lovely idea, just like this nosegay you have given me, and if I had my chatelaine on me I would give a lock of my hair to you right now in the street- no matter how risqué that may once have been seen in our youth. But," she finishes brightly, "it is not too far to the haberdashers, they are on Dering Lane, off Bond- and I shall cut some for you when we get there." and she tugs a little at his arm to get them moving again.

Charles' eyes are glistening so happily. And his voice is a bit choked with emotion too, even as Elsie is still bubbling about in front of him slightly as they walk on. "Thank you, Elsie, and…well. I know it is a bit late for all this… But would you let me court you a little? In reverse as it were. I have never really courted anyone properly, not even Alice, for nothing is really done the right way backstage in the Halls it seems."

She looks up at his still nervous face and thinks he must be the dearest man on earth, and she is rather thrilled by the whole idea, for he has proven quite adept at surprising her with so many lovely gifts so far. Still, she cannot help but take just a little dig at her very own romantic old duffer.

"Well, all right. But what exactly would that involve, Charles? For I am afraid you have missed the boat on some things by a country mile, for it is not as you could go asking my father for his permission to court me!"

"Nautical mile."

"What's that?"

"Nautical mile, - if I have missed the boat, Elsie, not a country mile."

"Pedant," she states with a smile as she leans into him and surreptitiously jabs her elbow lightly into his side as they walk. "Well, anyway, Charles, we have already flirted at the theatre, I have received jewels from you, and a silk kerchief, we have been out dancing, and even previously avoided too much physical contact with a man I am not yet engaged to be married to. You have written me a love letter… although I will most gladly accept more of _those_ if that is what you would like to do. … You have covered quite a bit already, Charles. I don't know what else is left to do in terms of courting. And my! you have already given me a nosegay with what is probably the world's most risqué message inherent in it as a token of your affections!" And she giggles and blushes quite red at this thought occurring to her out in public. Elsie wonders how on earth she will keep a straight face when she is dealing with the haberdashers! "Oh well, at least I have been presented before royalty first, as a belated debutante I guess!" Elsie is fairly giggling about it all now, and Charles is over the moon to see that brightest of smiles on Elsie's face again.

"Well, then does that not also mean we are about to sport the world's most risqué counterpane in our bedroom," he asks quietly near her ear.

Elsie feels his words like a shiver down her spine, and cannot help but look at him with somewhat lustful eyes as she grips onto her bottom lip quite impishly at the thought of it all- trying, and failing to stifle her broad and knowing smile.

 _Different again!_ thinks Charles as his focus is inexorably drawn to this little delight and he licks along his bottom lip in anticipation for the rest of their evening together.

"I know" she says brightly as she blushes, "Isn't that a wonderful thought, especially with all of our sweet memories of our time in London attached to it! That is why I want to make this design, Charles."

"Mrs Carson!" Charles is somewhat aghast… although he is probably blushed more with pride than shame right now, "As lovely as I am sure the design and your handiwork will be… are you sure that is what you want? What if people _see_ it!?" he whispers out, scandalised at the thought of it all.

"And prey, who _exactly_ is going to see it, Mr Carson?" she asks in a ridiculously haughty little voice. "Certainly no one visiting our cottage, for who goes to other's bedrooms when they are visiting? -vUnless someone is ill of course- and we would likely not have it on there then, anyway. And it most surely won't all be finished whilst we are still in rooms at the Abbey- not with the busy work we will have with the handover to Baxter and Barrow- so no housemaids will see be seeing it. And besides which, I would wager many today's young ones aren't going to recognise all the meanings of those flowers, anyway. No, Charles, people will just think it a simple flower design." Elsie squeezes his hand to reassure him this is what she wants, "And Charles, it is our memories alone that … truly bring any … _other_ connotations alive. So, it shall keep all of our secrets for us and it will be ours alone, I promise."

"Well… if you are sure that is what you want, Elsie."

"I am sure it is what I want, Charles. I want all that your mix of flowers means to us on our counterpane, Love. It will keep these blooms alive for us, don't you see? And besides, more than anything else, it will remind me, at least, that even when things seemed to be at their worst, you were still thinking of me in this way, and even managed to stay clear enough of mind to arrange for this to be made for me at all. And so, I will remember what a very fine gentleman I have married, and just how lucky and loved I truly am." and she smiles the happiest smile up at him. "And that is also why I want to border it with motifs of my ring and our penny- I want that to surround us both when we sleep…. to remind us that we are always side-by-side, like in your photo of us, and we are always _on_ each other's side too. I could not think of a better design for our counterpane even if I tried, Charles." And she smiles with such brightness in her eyes again that he feels transported by that same hope he felt on their day at Brighton.

"Well," he smiles back at her, "I am certain that it will look lovely, darling Elsie."

"Thank you, a chagair. Now then," she says brightly, "here we are."

oOOo

Charles mills about the shop as Elsie happily bustles about with an assistant, selecting threads and matching them to the tones of the blooms and discussing quantities needed. Charles is drawn to the various scrolls of ribbons and thinks of Elsie's hair and how he likes to brush it out and tie it into a braid for her. He carefully peruses the various shades of blues until he sees just what he is after. As Elsie has her back turned, he quietly pays for a thin length of the ribbon, the same colour blue that he sees in her eyes in the summertime- shiny and satiny and filled with joy, just as they were at the beach that day, and as they have been for so much of their honeymoon so far. He feels tickled with the happiness he always finds in Elsie's eyes and in his heart for her. _Life is good._

As he is having a short piece of the full length of ribbon cut away, Elsie catches his eye from across the shop and realises what he has done. Her assistant is busy packaging all of her purchases to be forwarded to Downton, so she quietly takes a small pair of embroidery scissors from the counter, and looks to him in a delightfully unusual and coquettish manner. Elsie carefully unpins a section of her hair and unfurls the smallest ringlet around her finger and looks down to quielty snip a short length of it free- right there in front of him. Charles' heart is pounding and his eyes have widened. To him, it is the most seductive thing anyone has ever done for him in public. Elsie's eyes flutter up onto his again and she gives him the tiniest, most knowing and flirtatious little smile as she strokes the short lock of hair lightly across her lips. Charles thinks that he might faint, it is so very exciting- to court and be courted by his Elsie–love. He has actually gripped onto the edge of the counter to steady himself. She is so very pretty and blushed, and the knowledge that he already has his lady's favour makes him feel like his heart will burst. Their little flirtation has gone unnoticed by anyone else, for the shop assistants are occupied by new customers and other tasks, so any silliness two old Boobies might normally feel for acting in such a blatantly youthful, flirtatious and old-fashioned manner cannot intrude upon their shared moment. Charles'knuckless have whitened at the bench top and he licks across his suddenly dry bottom lip. Before he knows it, Elsie has crossed the room to him and he feels her steadying hand clasps his arm again.

"Are you ready to walk out with me then, Mr Carson," she intones low to him. Charles jaw is still slightly agape, but he somehow manages to command the power of speech once more for her.

"It would be my honour, Miss Hughes," and his allusion to her former maidenhood is not lost on Elsie. She feels young and giddy all over again, for all of these little plays and pleasures she can share with her man, who is so sweet and dear and innocent in his affections for her. She is truly flattered by all of his attentions.

Outside, they stroll along until they reach a small alcove between some shops and can draw themselves a little out of the path of other pedestrians. It is not the most romantic of locales, but they build their own little private space in public once more as Elsie faces him and draws his open hand before her. She places her lock of hair carefully in his palm and Charles holds his breath as she forms a small loop with it and secures the short length of thin ribbon he chose around it, tying it up in a delicate little bow. Her fingertips feather his palm and he is enthralled by their nimble dexterity and the thoughts they conjure up of all the sensual pleasures they have already shared and the promise of more that they hold for him. Then Elsie slowly draws on the chain of his pocket watch to release it from its hiding place in his waistcoat- placing it into his open palm next to her single lock of hair. Elsie has never clipped it open before, or really even looked at it up close, now that she thinks on it. It is old and has history, but it has been impeccably kept- shiny and bright, just like her man. Her fingertips lightly brush his palm again. Time has stopped entirely for Charles, as she carefully places her lock of hair in the cover of his watch and strokes it lightly into place. As she quietly clicks the cover closed to keep it safe for him, the sound seems to restart his heart and he hears himself draw in a large deep draft of air to replace the breath she has just taken away from him. He is floating on air. And smiles the most adoring smile upon her pretty, innocent and pink blushed face as she places his watch safely back in his waistcoat pocket – right next to their little sixpence.

They do not speak, but their eyes tell their whole story to each other. Charles simply offers her his arm once more and briskly tugs his waistcoat down in that little manner that he has as he draws himself up to his full and imposing height. Chin held high and smiling out at all the world, he walks proudly, heart shining brightly and tickled to his absolute core, that this fine and graceful lady has agreed to be his wife.

 **CECECECECE**

 **MacCulloch and Wallis \- Haberdashery still in existence but recently moved to Poland Street (2015/6). In 1926, they were on Dering Lane, not far from the Ritz, which is why I chose it,- an easy walk for our heroes. But Elsie could also have gone to **Debenham's , **Marks and Spenser or Selfridges department stores on Oxford Street around the corner for Haberdashery items if she needed to. I just thought MacCulloch and Wallis sounded far more twee! .uk/**

 **Google maps!- Love it! Dering St is about a 250m walk up Piccadilly to Bond St then 800 m walk up before turning turn right on to Dering Lane which loops around too Oxford St. There is still a pick up of the shop front of MacCulloch and Wallis in 2015 on Google maps in street view. I think they were number 8 from memory. They moved to larger premises over Regent St in 2016 (on Poland St)**

 **I hope you liked the fluff.**

 **BTW- if you have any requests for things you think Charles and Elsie should face up to in this fiction- now is the time to bring it to my attention, and I will see what I can do. I only have a couple of other big ideas and canon points left in my mind that I want them to discuss.**

 **Feedback is always greatly appreciated.**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow. : )**


	35. Chapter 35- Strange Landscapes

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 35- Strange Landscapes**

 _Time has stopped entirely for Charles, as she carefully places her lock of hair in the cover of his watch and strokes it lightly into place. As she quietly clicks the cover closed to keep it safe for him, the sound seems to restart his heart and he hears himself draw in a large deep draft of air to replace the breath she had just taken away from him. He is floating on air. And smiles the most adoring smile upon her pretty, innocent and pink blushed face as she places his watch safely back in his waistcoat pocket – right next to their little sixpence._

 _They do not speak, but their eyes tell their whole story to each other. Charles simply offers her his arm once more and briskly tugs his waistcoat down in that little manner that he has as he draws himself up to his full and imposing height. Chin held high and smiling now at all the world, he walks out proudly, heart shining brightly and tickled to his absolute core, that this fine and graceful lady has agreed to be his wife._

 **CECECECECE**

Charles and Elsie stroll around the Dering Lane loop and out onto Oxford Street, having decided to take in the last of the late afternoon light by walking down to Park Lane so that they may trace the eastern tree lined paths of Hyde Park on their way back to Green Park and their final night in the Ritz Hotel. Charles' stately and ridiculously happy demeanour draws people's eyes and both he and Elsie end up nodding quite a few silent hellos to complete strangers that pass them by. Elsie feels very much the new and blushing bride that she is and enjoys the acknowledgements of passers-by who seem to brighten unconsciously at the sight of such contented love personified in the older couple- as if they are something of a dream to aspire to, and Elsie happily realises that perhaps they are just that.

Having passed through the Marble Arch and around the crowd gathered at the Speaker's Corner, they wander in companionable silence until they reach a delightful sunken flower garden that was known to be a favourite of the late Queen Victoria. In unspoken agreement, they decide to sit for a while to enjoy the quiet sounds of the park and watch a Nanny with her two small charges splashing leaves and sticks into the waters of the fountain of a Boy and Dolphin.*

Elsie's arm is still tucked closely into Charles' own and she leans into him slightly as they sit.

She asks almost dreamily as she watches the children play, "Charles, I know you barely ever considered leaving service, but… what would you have done if you had? If you could have had a wife and children in your younger years."

"I…I don't rightly know, Els. I had wanted that with Alice all those years ago, but now I think on it... I couldn't have really stayed on the stage to support a family properly… and yet I didn't really consider anything else at the time. I was so young… so very silly really. I suppose I may have ended up anywhere, really- probably a factory I guess, although given how lucky I was to go to a grammar school, I guess maybe I could have become an office clerk somewhere. My only other experiences were as a stable hand and a hall boy really. That would not have gone very far in the city and I wouldn't have had any means to even start up a shop, really. It would have been such a harsh life, wouldn't it, Els? I have so seldom thought of anything like it, thankfully, not since I went back into service."

"But, do you ever regret not having children of your own, Charles?"

"I…" he starts haltingly and then breathes out long, for his stance is strange, even to his own ears and taking into account his own affinities for young children. "You have asked me this before, haven't you? … and I've never really answered properly, and yet, …I know it might sound strange, Elsie… because I think I really did want that with Alice all of those years ago…and I do love to see little ones running about…and I have even built strong attachments to children in the past- as you well know with the young ladies of the house, … I… even fancy that I may have been quite extraordinarily happy if I ever did have my own children … but… I think my answer is still no…I do not regret it."

"Really? Hmm..but I guess, nor do I anymore… Although, I know I have at different times. But not now, though. It's funny how we can change our views on things over time, isn't it?"

"Hmm... that's true. I regretted that loss most keenly when things fell apart with Alice, but… then I made my full commitment to being in service and I never really bothered to look back."

"You really would have given your all in anything you may have taken on in life, wouldn't you, Charles?"

"Well, I'd like to think so, Elsie. I'd like to think I would have been a good father and provider for a family. But you know Elsie, having seen so many little ones grow up now …I think… I don't regret it because…I think children if there were ever a way to control when and where they arrive in our lives... I think they are really just the added blessing in a couple's life- but… a couple can still be quite uncommonly happy without having children too. I think I saw that in Lady Rosamund with Mr Painswicke- before he died. They never seemed able to have children, but they still appeared to be very happy together."

"Aye, children are a blessing, though, aren't they? Like the light of all the world, Charles," she says without a hint of nostalgia, just gratefulness, as she watches the little boy and girl squealing happily as they bubble back and forth around the edge of the fountain as they play.

"Hmm… I guess, after Alice…for me, service was everything, though. It took all my focus, and really- in service, I knew that I could never have both, and I had fully accepted that from the outset, as you know. Having both was never an option, so I thought no more on it… hmm… although…" he pauses when an odd thought pops into his head, "isn't it strange, Elsie, that the clergy who serve God may take a wife and have a family, yet we never were given the option in service. I have never actually thought of that before!" Charles sounds amazed at this sudden realisation.

"I cannot say that I have either, Charles. It is odd, isn't it? For surely serving God at that level would require far greater focus and dedication than even our lowly task set for the peerage," she concurs incredulously.

"Very strange…but it was probably more a desire of the powers that be to show how different the Church of England was compared to the demands of the Papacy after the Reformation, more than any particularly wise reasoning about it all."

"Well, I never thought I'd hear you saying that the actions of the Monarchy and the Church may have been a _little_ reactionary at times! Will wonders never cease!" And she looks at Charles with fresh new eyes again.

Charles just huffs out a bemused breath. "I am capable of _some_ original thought, Elsie. I know well enough the feet of clay that the aristocracy have and they are as prone to making rash decisions as the rest of us, I am sure. Not that I am saying the clergy should not marry. Indeed, I think it is good that they can have that earthly happiness too."

"Well, all of _that_ is the truth. Hmm… Anyway, I suppose the clergy are the pillars of the communities they live in… does not the church also want to model the ideal life to its parishioners?"

"I believe that is part of the theory behind it. It does make some sense on that level- provided that member of the clergy, marries well- and with love."

"Hmm… I wonder why Reverend Travis never married then."

"Because he is a horrible bore and no woman would likely have him, no matter how secure an incumbency he has in Downton."

"Charles! That is truly awful!" Elsie nudges into his side, but cannot help but chuckle at her husband's quite outrageous bluntness. Likewise, Elsie cannot imagine any woman finding much contentment in the good Reverend's rather dull companionship. "I shan't be able to look him in the eye when we return to Downton!"

"Well, I wouldn't want him to be getting any ideas about my wife if you did so, Elsie-love."

"Charles! Honestly! He is a man of God! You are being quite wicked now you know. Surely …" she is almost lost for words, "I just cannot believe you would even suggest that level of impropriety from him!"

"Well, … I am not really saying he would _act_ upon it, Elsie," Charles goes on a little more reasonably, "but I have seen him looking longingly sometimes at the things he does not have. He _is_ still a man, …I suppose, and I guess he is probably lonely." Charles finishes, now a little more sympathetic to this man's particular plight. "Perhaps he regrets not having his own wife and family, or even really any close friends, now that I think on it. I have been very lucky to have never truly been lonely at the Abbey, although I could easily have been that if I never had your friendship over all these years, Elsie." And he squeezes his free hand on top of hers. "Still, perhaps we are proof that it may not be too late, even for a man like him- if that is what he wants."

"Well, that could be true… and I do prefer it when I hear you wishing happiness for him, Charles. I know you have claimed to not being a gentleman in your past, but it pays not to be _too_ disparaging of your fellow man- especially one who's choir we are proposing to commandeer within the next year!"

"Fair point, Elsie," he grins, looking forward once again to their retirement plans. "I do apologise." But then he just cannot help himself, "But perhaps you should try to fling the widow Wigan into his path a little more – it would keep her out of your hair with the Ladies' Auxiliary, would it not?" And he flinches ever so slightly away from Elsie, knowing she is likely to jab him hard in the ribs again for that little remark.

"Charles!" but she cannot help but laugh. "Stop it! And I would not wish that upon any man, no matter how boring and lonely he may be! … And besides- can you imagine how Mrs Wigan would swan about the village and try to lord it over everyone? It would be intolerable! And by the by, it would actually make things _more_ difficult for the Auxiliary and the Choir to get anything done if she had that level of influence in the village behind her! Not to mention even _more_ access to the village people's gossip! Now enough, Charles. The marital status of the good Reverend, or indeed the widow Wigan shall remain no concern of ours, I thank you very much! And anyway, you still have not told me how it you find you have no real regrets about not being able to have your _own_ children, Charles."

"Hmm. Well, I guess it is because I have always been happy at Downton."

"That is true. And I have been happy at Downton too."

"So…really, children are not the only place to find happiness and contentment and beauty in the world, are they?"

"No, indeed not."

"And…well, I believe that children deserve the best life they can possibly be given, don't they, Els?" She just nods in agreeance. "And they need a house that is stable and loving… like with our Anna and Mr Bates… they are ready to offer all of that now- now that the worst of their troubles seem to be over…and I suppose, Elsie…that I don't know that I have ever felt confident enough that I could have given the best of myself to a wife and child in any other situation out there. I don't know if I could have ever been the secure father I would aspire to be if I did not have my job in service. I would have been a very different man, really- if I ended in a shop or a factory. I am quite certain of that after all these years- given what I know of how life can change us so. And I would have hated to think of a child of mine having to go off to a dangerous factory to work or the like just to get enough food on the table. And I just doubt that I would have been what a child deserves if I did not have that stable livelihood that service has given me."

"Well, that makes sense. I think that is why I was never keen to be so beholden to the trials of farm life. It was not an easy way to live when I was a lass. I ...I was scared for the same things really, Charles- that I may not be able to feed and clothe and protect any children of mine well enough. Service saved my own life from poverty and the poor house at a very young age too, really, and I am very grateful for it."

"Indeed, we have been fortunate." And he squeezes her hand firmly. "Hmm, but equally, Elsie, … I really have not felt that I have needed my own children to feel like my life is complete- not at all, over all of these years, and especially not now, Elsie-love…And he lifts her fine gloved hand to brush a kiss across the back of it. "So I do not regret it… I do feel most content with what I have achieved in the past and what I have in my life now, it is all more than I could have hoped for years ago."

"Hmm. You make it sound like nothing is really ever missing if it was not there to begin with."

"I suppose that is one way of looking at it, yes... and …it is true really, isn't it? For I would have desperately regretted missing out on this love and marriage with you, Elsie- once I knew that it was there to share in… but you cannot love and regret losing something that does not actually exist yet, can you?"

"Ha!" Elsie laughs at his strange but provocative logic. "That does make quite a bit of sense there, Charles. I shall remember that if ever I find myself wallowing again in a past I never had!"

"Hmm…But I guess it is a bit strange, though, isn't it … that I don't feel some regrets about this- of all things… but I just don't. But, as with you, the situation was never quite right to have children, and so life went on – as best as I could make it… But, still… I do like the steady role I have played, and maybe will still be able to play in the lives of the ladies, and now with their own children. It is fun, and still fulfilling to share what I can and what I am allowed to with young Miss Sybbie and Master George and Miss Marigold. And now with Anna due…I know with how close you are to Anna that we will have a place in that little one's life too… and that is a very happy thing… and it is enough for me, Els. It is a blessing enough to be able to offer the best that I have of myself in these ways to the children of people we care for. I am very lucky to have all of that… Does that make sense now, Elsie?"

"It most certainly does, my man. You a fine man for these children to be lucky enough to spend time with, including the boys of the future Carson's XI cricket team! Although, I still maintain that, no matter the circumstances, you would have been a very fine father to any child you may have had Charles."

"Thank you for believing that of me, Elsie. And _you_ will be a fine Granny very soon, Mrs Carson, if you want to be to Anna and Mr Bates' little one."

"Ha! I am not sure I am ready to think of myself as some sort of Granny! It makes me feel terribly old again- which is certainly _not_ how I have been feeling for these last days with you, Mr Carson. Let me settle into to be a new bride for a little longer, if you please, Hmm?"

"Oh," Charles leans into his pretty bride to secretly speak into her ear, "I think you already know that it pleases me greatly," and he revels in seeing the pink blush rise quickly up Elsie's neck. He moistens his lower lip with his tongue and continues soto voce as her gazes longingly upon the elegant pearl necklace that draws all his longing into focus upon her warm and supple skin, "Shall we walk on again, young Mrs Carson, for I feel there may be far…mmm... _finer_ views for me to peruse in this big city than this rather grotesque looking Dolphin."

Elsie feels an electric shiver roll over her skin at his insinuation, and given they are in the presence of children, she feels a strong need to once again divert Charles' more amorous overtures before they get too out of hand. Elsie has very quickly discovered that wit seems to be her only real weapon with Charles when he is acting like this in public, although she is awfully pleased by the powerful affect that she knows only she will ever have on this man of ultimate propriety.

"Agreed, Mr Carson, for I find it is rather too much like looking upon the slow torture of an oversized Baron Trevor de Brown Trout."

Charles chuckles happily at this part of their now closely shared history as he guides them back onto the eastern paths of the park. The dreamlike quality of the dappled light speckling through the trees seems to strangely mimic of the sense of other-worldliness they have found in their private time together in their lovely room at the Ritz these last days.

oOOo

As they make their way towards the south-eastern exit of Hyde Park, they stop briefly to observe a moments silence at the Memorial to the Cavalry lost in the Great War. They do not speak as the gravity of the loss of those who once were the light of all the world flows over them both. _Those boys were not protected well enough_ , they think in kind but cannot speak it. In time, all they can do is walk on, in silence through Hyde Park corner and past the Wellington monument, and then slowly across Green Park towards their hotel and the strange alternate landscape of their honeymoon world.

oOOo

Charles wants to shake off the seemingly inevitable heaviness their silent prayers at the memorial have settled over them and so he turns his thoughts to their plans for the rest of their holiday.

"Elsie, did you have any particular ideas for how you would like to spend our days in Scarborough?"

"Hmm?" Elsie shakes the dark mantle of the legacy of the war from the front of her mind too and attends to Charles' query with some light-heartedness returning to her voice. "Well, Charles, I am not too fussed. Perhaps it will be nice to face at least a few more days together with little of a clear plan about them. I should like to walk on the beach again of course. Maybe we could go paddling again if it is warm enough… and I understand they have a band playing on the foreshore regularly, so we could go dancing again. That would be lovely don't you think- to dance by the seaside," she continues dreamily, "I do love to dance with you, Charles. So very much." And she blushes again at her memories of their vibrant closeness last night on the Ritz Restaurants' dance floor, and their subsequent, most delightful evening activities, "that may always form a part of your ongoing reverse courtship of me, I think you will find, Mr Carson."

Charles hums happily, at the thought of it. "It will be my absolute pleasure, I can assure you. And speaking of this budding courtship of ours, Miss Hughes, … I thought we might perhaps go picnicing – maybe on the castle grounds somewhere there…. For…I …" he stumbles over his words a little again, which he knows is silly, given his current, very sure situation in life, but he suddenly feels like a nervous young suitor again, as he once again fears his Elsie seeing him as a bit of sentimental old goof.

"What is it, Charles?" she coaxes him gently.

"Well, … I …I hope that you might enjoy this too, but I thought I should like to read to you from that book of Thomson's Seasons poems when we are by the seaside, I brought it with me, you see."

Elsie looks up at his entirely endearing and slightly abashed face- he is still so unsure that she will enjoy being romanced by him.

"Charles, I should love for you to share that with me," she reassures him with a big smile. "I did give you that book after all because I knew you would appreciate it and like it… just as I like the poems myself. I do hope you know by now that you don't have to be nervous about doing these things with me anymore, Charles. I may be more of a stranger to romance than you were in your early days- for Joe was not really that way inclined… well, certainly not with the style that you have thus far managed on our honeymoon!" and she squeezes his arm again. "But I can assure you that I am not at all immune to its charms. I adore this side of you, Charles, really." And she stops them in the middle of the path and looks up into his face. "You may court me however you see fit, Charles, without fear of me ever thinking it silly, for a lady does not give a lock of her hair to a suitor if she is not ready for such full attentions from him, surely you must know that."

Charles face loses all of its nervousness and breaks into the sunniest smile for her.

"No, I don't suppose she does. Thank you, Elsie. I'm sorry, I guess I am still so new to all of this…and… I always think I may push things too far and I fear that you will think me ridiculous. "

Elsie returns his smile. "Charles, showing me your love is not a ridiculous thing, it is lovely. And it makes me feel like I can have most of those things I once gave up any hope of having with a man just so that I could be in service. But, Charles, I adore it, really, and most especially when I see how happy and content it makes you too." With shimmering eyes, Charles tucks his head around and brushes the inside Elsie's gloved hand with his lips. "In fact, Charles, why don't you start reading Thomson to me tonight in our rooms, while I sketch this little nosegay while it is still fresh… and then we can have a late dinner sent up… and maybe we could dance to the wireless again… whatever you like. I shall be delighted to spend time with you this way, truly." And she caresses his cheek with her hand. "You can tell me all of your favourite parts of the poem, and we can read even more of it in Scarborough- for it is rather a long and rambling suite, isn't it.? So, how does that all sound to you?"

"It all sounds like a dream come true, Miss Hughes" he says in a voice thickened with emotion. Then more clearly, "May I continue to escort you across the park to your hotel, Miss Hughes."

"Indeed, you may, Mr Carson." An Elsie smiles broadly again at her Charles and his love of the art of performance manifested in their very own love story.

oOOo

As they stroll the final section of Green Park before reaching the Hotel, Elsie muses, "You know, I do rather think Thomson meant for his poems to be shared between people in this way, don't you, Charles?"

"I suppose you are right. I know that I always find my mind just wanders to you whenever I read them on my own, and I struggle to get very far with it at times- as when you were away from me for such an interminable amount of time and I felt the desperate need to torture some worms in the lake because of it."

Elsie scoffs aloud at him, "Ha! Well, that brings to mind an entirely different vision of a Boy with a Dolphin I can assure you!" Elsie chuckles at him, and is rewarded with another one of Charles delightful full belly rolls of laughter. _I really do make him happy!_ "And besides, I was hardly away for very long Charles, you have been away far longer each season in London. I think I was only away for about four days at my sister's then."

"Well, it was still far longer than I could happily endure. I don't like not having you there at the Abbey to brighten my days."

"Oh, you are sweet, Charles. But just think," she adds quite giddily, "neither of us needs face such hardship as that again- and you need never be alone if the need to lay waste to some worms should ever seize you again, Charles! Not for a moment if you don't want to be."

"How you managed to make that sound in the least bit romantic, Mrs Carson, I may never know, but I thank you all the same!"

"Well," she grins cheekily at him, "I think I may be starting to learn a thing or two from a rather young man at heart- filled with romance and passion- who has ably commandeered the body of a certain stuffy old Butler I know quite well!"

Charles just huffs out another happy laugh at her particular brand of backhanded flattery that he knows only he is ever rewarded with. He looks into her gleaming happy eyes and his eyes tell her _Just keep on ribbing me until the end of my days, Elsie Carson. I'm yours._

 **CECECECECE**

 **Author Notes (if you want them)**

 **On Hyde Park sites to see-**

 **The Boy and Dolphin water fountain** was **moved from the site I have listed it in this** chapter **when that Eastern side of Hyde Park was redeveloped to allow for the broadening of Park Lane in the 1960s. In 1926, this fountain would have been in a sunken flower type garden that was favoured by Queen Vic. I haven't found any original photos of it in that** space **though. When Park lane was widened, this Dolphin,** fountain **was moved to Regents Park and only returned to Hyde Park Rose Garden in 1995. Where Charles and Elsie are sitting watching the children play is actually a lovely new fountain called the 'Joy of Life' Fountain. This newer fountain inspired, in many ways, Elsie's line of questioning and their short discussion on having children and finding happiness in this chapter. Plus, the original dolphin fountain is unaccountably** gooby **looking beastie, and I just couldn't go past using it for this pair of old goobers!**

 **The Cavalry Monument to soldiers lost in WW1 was in existence in this part of the park in 1926- it depicts St George Slaying the Dragon. Installed in 1924 near the Stanhope Gate- (which now has a memorial to the July 7th London Bombings in its place). St George is nearer to the south-eastern corner entrance of Hyde Park today.**

 **The Wellington Monument is a rather impressive looking 18ft high piece of public statuary depicting the Greek Warrior Achilles, installed in 1822 to commemorate the Iberian Peninsula victories during the Napoleonic Wars. Google maps ** is **confusing as to its current position- I think it is actually across the road from Hyde park- on what I believe is known as Hyde Park Corner- kind of the entrance to the north-western corner of Green Park. Anyway, the Wikipedia site is easier to look at for that one. wiki/Wellington_Monument,_London**

 **Google each if you are interested in a bit more information, or just follow this link to sights to see in Hyde Park. It is a full website of all the Royal Parks in London, including Green Park.**

 ** _royalparks. /parks/hyde-park/things-to-see-and-do_**

 **I think all of these monuments would have affected Charles and Elsie much more than they necessarily do us today. The war is still a fresh and personal memory for them. I tend to forget these things myself, having never been touched so closely by any conflict. These are defining social events for our heroes and these types of WW1 public artworks and memorials have only recently been installed around the nation- They would take note of them, whereas we might just walk on by and not really see them at all.**

 **Google Maps street view is also fun \- so that you can vicariously tread the paths of our heroes in this little story of mine- albeit almost a century later!**

 **Total DA Canon side note: just a bit of an anachronism I have picked up in JF canon because of all by traipsing through all these 1926 London streets and sights for my fiction.**

 **At the time, Anna mills about Piccadilly wondering about Green's death and being trailed by an undercover** cop- **(approx. 1923 in the series) - the Shaftesbury Monument is shown at the centre of a busy Piccadilly roundabout. I would just like to be a pedantic know-it-all and point out that in 1922- 1931- this statue of Anteros, that I have already referred to in this fiction of mine, _was_ actually in the Victoria Embankment Gardens because the Charing Cross underground tube station was being constructed directly underneath this monument's Piccadilly home. So, the DA researchers got it wrong! ; P —but hey- it gave them a known landmark to film around – so I do forgive them!**

 **CECECECECE**

 ****Hmm…It wasn't all too fluffy this chapter, I hope! Not my best work, I know… but I have other things up my sleeve before I am done with this loved up** pair **of Galapagos Tortoises!**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow : )**


	36. Chapter 36-Whom Gentler Stars Unite

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 36- Whom Gentler Stars Unite**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own them or profit from using them beyond my own selfish enjoyment.

 **Warning:** M-rating. This is NSFW- but, of course, in a very loving way.

 **Enjoy : )**

 **BorneToFlow.**

CECECECECE

" _Oh, you are sweet, Charles. But just think," she adds quite giddily, "neither of us need face such hardship as that again- and you need never be alone again if the need to lay waste to some worms should ever seize you again, Charles! Not for a moment if you don't want to be."_

" _How you managed to make that sound in the least bit romantic, Mrs Carson, I may never know, but I thank you all the same!"_

" _Well," she grins cheekily at him, "I think I may be starting to learn a thing or two from a rather young man at heart- filled with romance and passion- who has ably commandeered the body of a certain stuffy old Butler I know quite well!"_

 _He just huffs out another happy laugh at her particular brand of backhanded flattery that he knows only he is ever rewarded with. He looks into her gleaming happy eyes and his eyes tell her_ Just keep on ribbing me until the end of my days, Elsie Carson. I'm yours _._

 **CECECECECE**

Having confirmed with Jenson their late checkout time and train schedule for the next day, Charles and Elsie arrange for a late dinner to be sent up to their room and spend the twilight hour in peaceable companionship. They make use of the red arm chairs that were the site of such turmoil earlier in the day to continue reforging and strengthening their bond as man and wife. Elsie has collected some sketching pencils and paper via Jenson and is busy working on the design for their future counterpane while Charles starts reading aloud to her from the very beginning of Thomson's Seasons suite if poems- for where else could a man such as he possibly start? Elsie smiles knowingly at his choice and their eyes exchange a silently understood message that this is exactly how they both envision their quiet evenings of retirement being spent. Elsie sketches their beautiful nosegay of flowers, soon to be stitched permanently into their memories and around their shared dreams, and Charles' rich and deep voice slides elegantly over the lengthy descriptions of spring-time growth and bounty from the book Elsie gifted him so many years ago when the world was striving to be reborn after the long dark winter of the war.

Intermittently one or both of them will mention that certain passages of the lengthy piece have always appealed to them, and then Charles will slow and clear his diction ever so slightly and pour even more focus into his intonation and expressions. It is lovely to finally share this mutually loved poem together. And more than either of them have found in their past separate readings of it, the different effect of reading it aloud serves as a true reminder that there is indeed great beauty and much good in the world to be enjoyed and shared.

When Elsie is satisfied that she has recorded the shapes and life of the flower arrangement as accurately as she can, including colouring notes, she rises and ushers Charles to their bed so that she can lie with him before their meal arrives and hear his voice reverberating through his broad strong chest as he continues reading. It is so soothing. She has long loved the sound of his voice. It can be so commanding and clear. She likes to hear it at work when she walks the background servants halls and she can hear him through the green baize door announcing new visitors into the Great Hall, or when he is issuing precise directions to the understaff, or sometimes even when he is shouting reprimands at the footmen. But she especially likes it when he is sometimes called upon to do a Psalm reading for the Sunday Eucharist service in church. Then he is worshipful and humble and deep and lilting and rhythmical and soothing- just as he is now - reading with reverence of all the wonders in God's creation. Before long she is slipping under the lullaby of his tones and in their prone position, so comfortable and at home with Elsie nestled in his arms, Charles soon follows suit in a lovely restorative early evening nap.

oOOo

They only awake when there is a tap at their door announcing the arrival of their dinner.

Which they decide to take on their balcony again as the night is clear and dark and warm, and most if the traffic down Piccadilly has slowed to an intermittent trickle at this later hour of the evening at the start of other's working week. Having read for so long, and at times today, conversed for even longer, Charles and Elsie eat in easy silence and communicate only through light touches to each other's hands and via small glances. So easy. So peaceful.

oOOo

Elsie finally breaks their long silence as Charles pours the last of their red wine and they settle back from their main meal to pick shapes out in the shadows of the leaves of the trees below them in Green Park.

"Do you know what I should like to do now?"

"What's that, Love?" he asks lazily.

"It is rather decadent, Charles," she says a little nervously, but then Charles sees the impish glint in her eye and revels in the way she chews on her bottom lip in that wickedly mischievous and sensual way she now has with him. It melts him.

"Decadence seems to be running roughshod through this whole honeymoon of ours already, Elsie. Let it ride I say. I am sure it will be absolutely wonderful, whatever you suggest." And he grins happily at her in anticipation.

"Well, I am not quite ready for dessert just yet, but let's finish our wine, and then…" she draws out as she runs a fingertip seductively over the supple veins on the back of his hand that rests on the table between them, "…then afterwards, I think we should change into our lovely bathrobes while we still have the chance to use them, and we can sit in the bed to have our coffee and pudding. How does that sound?"

Charles eyes her with a joyful and knowing fire in his eyes and sucks in a heated breath before breaking into a beauteous grin " Well… so long as my pudding can be forfaitaire de gelee fondante, I see no problems with that plan."

Elsie barks out a loud laugh and then covers her mouth quickly with her hand as she snorts in a sharp and unladylike breath as she tries to recover herself from the wonderful and racy visions his description for her brings to mind.

Charles has never heard Mrs Hughes snort with laughter! And he cannot help the belly laugh that rolls out of him at the sight and sound of it. She is delighting him all the time with these new facets to her. He could not have thought there would be so many new things to keep learning about a person after having already spent so very many years together. It astounds and delights him.

"Oh dear!" she laughs out, "it seems we still need to disprove that claim that you may actually be a bit of a devil, Carson the Magnificent."

"I am not sure that will be at all possible tonight, Mrs Carson," he joshes.

But Elsie slows and hums out longingly, "Hmmm…well… I am really in no great rush to do so," And to prove it, she removes her hand from his and reaches for her glass of wine and sips at it unhurriedly, and in a way that she now knows will make Charles' eyes widen with lust and his breath catch in his throat at this sudden change in pace for their conversation, and for her own confident play for him. She quirks the smallest smile at the rim of her glass when this proves to be the case and then purposely pools a drop of wine from the indent in her bottom lip as she moves the glass back to the table.

"Well," he breathes out heavily as he rises from his chair. He loves the way she purposely titillates him, but he also knows that he can play this game too, "in the interests of slow decadence, Mrs Carson, I would like to suggest…" and he draws her to her feet before him "that you allow your personal Butler to..." he bends his head towards her to delicately lick that fine rich drop of wine from her lips until he can savour the fullest flavour of his Elsie again beneath his languorous kisses, leaving her slightly breathless in the process, "…to share his expertise and love of fine wines with you… much…hmmm…much.. more thoroughly." He draws this last out as a low rumbling whisper near her ear and is rewarded with the shiver of energy he feels ripple down the length of Elsie's spine to settle in his hand that broadly spans her lower back.

Then, he reaches for her glass from the table and sips from it himself before offering it to Elsie with a querying lift of his eyebrow, tilting it slowly for her to drink from as he watches her face intently. They have never drunk from the same cup before. He can feel her heart beating rapidly through his shirt front as he anticipates her next move. Elsie remains breathlessly silent, for she is of no mind now to change the direction of this little lesson in wine appreciation that Charles is now offering. Not at all.

This time, Charles waits until Elsie's reflex to poke the smallest tip of her tongue through her lightly pursed lips kicks in before he brings his mouth to hers and brushes his own barely exposed tongue tip side to side over hers to remove the residue of wine upon her lips- making Elsie gasp involuntarily as he surprises her yet again with the sheer variety of ways he has for kissing her. She then finds her voice and speaks low and huskily to him.

"Perhaps, Mr Carson, we could finish this wine in the sitting room."

"Mmmm" he rumbles out, "as you wish Mrs Hughes. I look forward to it, as always."

"You perhaps ought to look forward to it just a _little_ more than usual, Mr Carson," she purrs seductively to him as she moves to lead him away from the balcony, having grasped his glass from the table on the way. Charles licks over his bottom lip as he sees the silhouette of Elsie's legs through the light fabric of her blue skirt as she is back-lit by the soft glow within their suite. He stifles a longing groan at the sight of her hips swaying and the soft sound of her stockings brushing lightly together at the top of her thighs as she walks ahead of him. He enjoys the sight of her full curves becoming ever so slightly more pronounced as she bends forward to place the glass she is carrying on the little side table between the two plush red chairs. Then she turns to take the glass he is holding and he is allowed the same heady pleasure once more as she turns to place it beside its mate.

The wireless is playing some slow waltz tempo tunes and Elsie turns back into Charles body and most forwardly places her hand upon his shoulder and takes his left hand to positions them into a dance hold.

"I think I should like that dance now, Mr Carson," she tells him simply.

Charles feels unsteady in the most wonderful way buffeted lovingly by all the deft moves and parries Elsie seems to be directing with far greater alacrity than he is in this intoxicating dance of seduction they are slowly weaving together tonight. But she has his hand right now and he is steady enough to fall into instinctive rhythm with the tune that Elsie is so confidently playing.

"My pleasure, M'lady," he murmurs close to her ear as he holds her even closer, actually resting his chin above her head, because it just _fits_ there, tucked in so neatly and so perfectly with him.

And it most assuredly is his pleasure, for the dancing with Elsie requires so little conscious focus on his part, her movements are a joy to read and to lead and to follow in any number of combinations back and forth between them. Easy and natural. And Charles knows that the fullness of this exquisite and slow seduction they are engaging in tonight will dance out in the same way. The tune is so very slow, and there really is no need to rush. Soon Charles has given up all semblance of trying to maintain some sort of step sequence with Elsie, his left handhold has dropped to waist level, just as his head has dropped to the side of her head and he is concentrating solely on the feeling of her ear brushing softly over his lips and the warm floral scent of her hair that he breathes in deeply, the softest hint of red wine vapours evident in the small warm breaths she exhales onto his own neck. Soon they are just swaying lightly from foot to foot, and turning slowly on the spot- just breathing each other in.

Chares murmurs against her silky soft hair as he runs his free hand slowly up her spine to the base of her hairstyle and feels the round pearl buds of her necklace tickle across his fingertips.

"I love you so much, Elsie. I feel like I can never tell you enough or hold you close enough."

"You are doing just fine, Charles." She whispers back. "Just fine. And I love you quite as much. Just dance now."

And they fall back into easy silence as they sway once more. Humming low and contentedly into each other's warmth at various intervals.

oOOo

Eventually, Elsie speaks. Charles feels it against his neck more than he even hears it.

"Let's get changed into those robes now, Mr Carson. What do you think?"

"I think that I never want to let you go, Elsie-love. Hmmm… But that sounds enticing enough to take the risk. Do you … hmmm…" he moans into her neck between soft kisses around her necklace, "mmm do you need me to help you?"

"Mmmm … probably not," she sighs out languidly, "but why don't you do that anyway?

"Mmmm," he smiles into her skin, "it would be my pleasure, M'lady. Come." And with that, he leads her over to her dressing room.

oOOo

They slowly undress each other, revelling in the closeness and the murmurs of soft devotions over one another's skin as they expose more of themselves in safety to each other in between their kisses. Charles enjoys slowly undoing Elsie's hair again, throwing off that ultimate symbol, at least in his mind, of her public persona, bringing her into her fullest self again in the privacy of their own sacred and sensual space together. Charles wordlessly insists on no nightgown for Elsie… for what would be the point? And on her not removing the pearl necklace that he finds so desperately alluring because… well…what would be the point of that either?

Now warmly wrapped in their pristine and fluffy evening attire, Elsie runs her hand across Charles' cheek and feels the rasp of a day's worth of growth. He picks up on the slight flicker of distaste shown in the movement of a muscle beneath her eye.

With no sign annoyance at the inevitable break in the sensuous proceedings of their evening that this will engender, Charles tells her quietly, "My shaving set is in the other bathroom. Let me go and see to it, Love."

She immediately smiles her appreciation. And still reaches up to kiss him through all the prickles, anyway, into her favourite little dip on his chin. "Thank you, a chagair."

Charles leaves room with his usual silent gliding pace and Elsie takes the moment to freshen herself a little for his comfort too then returns to their main apartment to take a seat on one of the red armchairs in the sitting area.

Charles makes quick work of shaving and as he returns to Elsie side she stands and bends to retrieve their glasses from the little table and hands one to him. Knowing now Charles penchant for creative lovemaking, and unable to forego this particular chance that may not appropriately come up for them when they return to the Abbey, Elsie feeds him the line he will need so as to take up their seduction were they had last left off with the remains of their fine wine.

With her bright but desire darkened eyes not leaving his, she speaks low and sensuously and close to his face, "I know you have told me how to sip wines to properly taste them before, Mr Carson… but… I wondered if you might …remind me of the _particular_ technique you prefer? Then she takes a small sip from her glass and allows a residue of it to glisten across her lower lip once more.

Charles hums out and approving groan at the aroma of fine wine drifting from her lips, and at the sight of her wine blessed bottom lip caught up in her teeth in that new impish way Elsie has developed with him.

"Oh… it would be my _absolute_ pleasure, Mrs Hughes," he rumbles out low and heatedly as he begins his instruction with a thorough demonstration of how best to savour the viscosity of a wine at the very tip of the tongue.

Elsie moans her full appreciation quietly into his exploring mouth.

"Now you try it, Mrs Hughes," his voice is gravelled and sounding in dire need of some quenching liquid. He swirls the glass of wine he is now holding to fully release its aromas and then brings the crystal to his nose to draw in its bouquet deeply once again, not once taking his eyes from Elsie's bright and expectant ones. Then he curls his finger down into the bowl of the glass and retrieves the finest film of wine on his finger pad. He slowly draws it under Elsie's nose and watches with rapt attention as she inhales deeply then and smiles dreamily as she tilts her head back slightly to capture the droplet on the very tip of her tongue, swirling it around to feel its thickness and taste the notes of sweetness from his hands. Charles inhales a sharp breath at the ticklish sensation he was anticipating and hums a longing moan as Elsie takes it upon herself to draw more of his index finger into her mouth to ensure she has left no part untested.

"What's next, Carson?" she breathes out heavily once she has released his finger. He feels her warm breath upon his chin.

Charles finds he has to clear his throat heavily before he can continue.

"Next we come to the full tasting. Perhaps you would like to take a seat, Mrs Hughes." As he envisions the next steps in this wine tasting tour with her, Charles feels the muscles of his legs and those stringing across his hips tighten with heat for his delightfully forward wife.. He kneels before Elsie, who has made herself quite comfortable on one of the low Louis XVI chairs, her knees pressed together and angled off to one side in a very ladylike fashion, allowing him the closeness and access he needs to her upper body. Charles unhurriedly draws the tie on her robes and opens the sides of it out across the chair. Elsie accepts this new state of undress easily and sits even taller and more confidently in her chair. Charles smiles to himself as he thinks of his next line of seduction and revels once more in the fact that Elsie is so comfortable with being naked before him and is already excited enough to have a heated blush of red showing across her chest and her delightful dusky rosé nipples are tightening before his very eyes in anticipation of his next move.

In rumbling tones he tells her, "You see , …to best _appreciate_ something as full bodied as _this_ , Mrs Hughes, …. you must sip enough of it into your mouth to coat the entire surface of your tongue. Allow me to demonstrate once more." And he looks at her with somewhat pained but delighted hunger in his eyes. "First tilt your head back slightly," and he uses light fingertips under her chin to guide Elsie's head back into the cushioned top of the chair. "Then tilt the glass slowly and allow enough wine to pool inside your mouth." And with that, Charles motions the glass towards her, but rather than bringing it to her parched and slightly parted lips, he slowly tips a little wine into the hollow of her neck, just below that elegant ring of pearls around her neck.

Elise draws in a sharp breath and then her mouth breaks into a beauteous smile as she realises exactly what his demonstration will now involve, which is really quite similar to certain imaginings of her own, envisioned when she first led him inside from their dinner.

 _All the finest beauty of the world upon my wife's fair skin._

Charles is in raptures at the sight of it all.

Some of the red liquid has trickled in slow path down her sternum and pooled in to her navel. She holds desperately still and waits for Charles to finish his evaluation of the wines merits. He brings his face close to her neck and explains quietly, "Now we sip the wine but do not drink it as such, first aerating it lightly as we almost suck it into the mouth."

And he leans in and dips the tip of his tongue into the liquid pooled between her collarbones before quickly, and reasonably noisily, inhaling it into his wanting mouth. Elsie gasps and moans at the light sensation he has just dusted onto her skin. The breath he draws away from the wine spikes in cool contrast to the prickling heat she feels striking across her décolletage and driving down towards her core.

 _Dear God! I love this man's passions!_

In time Charles swallows this small sip so that he may continue with his explanation.

"You see, Mrs Hughes," he intones thickly, in-between continuing to lick the residue of wine from her neck, feeling her soft moans of pleasure vibrating under his tongue, and then slowly tracing the red rivulet lower and in between her breasts. "Hmmm…Drawing air in as we sip helps to release more aromas to the back of the palate and nose….mmm… thereby expanding the amount of _nuanced_ flavours that can be detected in the wine."

Elsie's breath is becoming shorter and her chest is heaving rhythmically as Charles tongue tip glances lightly over the thin skin of her chest, tickling through to the hard bone underneath.

Charles continues in low rumbling semi-whisper, "Mmm… and…as you roll the wine over the full expanse of your tongue , my delectable lump of port-wine jelly…." And he runs the full breadth of his hot tongue back up her sternum, "every tiny taste bud is engaged in the full _experience_ that the wine has to offer… mmm… oh ..Els-ssie…"he groans out hotly as he starts lavishing more fulsome sliding licks all across the smooth skin of Elsie's breasts.

"Moohhr!…. Ooo… Oh, Charles… it …it sounds delightful…. Hmmm…"

And then Elsie has another delightfully decadent idea and she brings her hand to the glass Charles has lightly balance near her hip and she dips two of her fingers deep into the rich liquid.

"But…Carson…," she pants out longingly, "perhaps you could….Oooh God… show me how that rolling action works again," she finishes breathlessly as she drips and rubs the wine from her fingertips around one of her nipples with the clear and lubricious intent of drawing Charles closer to her most heated desires.

He growls out a loud and rumbling purr of want and quickly draws her burgundy blushed nipple deep into his mouth and rolls that rippled bud of delightful flavour over the full expanse of his tongue.

Elsie shouts out her sharp pleasure and feels strangely wicked and even slightly silly about acting in such a way, and yet also incredibly beautiful and somehow filled with lavish goodness- trapped almost mindlessly inside her lust but completely lucid and carefree all at once. Her own actions are quite intoxicating for her as she groans out lustfully, hot liquid pooling fast and low where her thighs are still pressed together as she sits, providing her with as delightful friction to work against at her centre, even as her head flops languorously onto the chair back and she grinds her breast tightly into Charles loving mouth. She just feels so luscious and confident with showing and sharing herself this way with him.

"Oh…ohh.. aaahh…Charles… good…it so good…Hauh..ah…show me …show me… the other one … oh please."

Charles reluctantly lifts his head away from its current tasting and he stares up in wonder at his passionate wife, writhing in the purest pleasure of her own design. He loves it when she says how she feels and tells him what she wants. Charles wastes no time in dipping his fingers into the wine glass and dripping the cool liquid over her other nipple, then massaging some of the moisture out around her areola, sensing all the intricate and perfect ripples of hidden flavour it has to offer. He places the glass on the floor so that he may dive in and more thoroughly discern the subtle flavours of his wife's most piquant pleasure. He groans heavily into her breast and sucks cool air over the residue of his licks the wine away and taste her skin once more, making Elsie positively writhe upon the chair. The few drop of wine that were nestling in her navel have now trickled down to the top of her curls and at the sensation, Elsie's legs want to open more fully, wanting her man to drink from her again.

Charles senses her movement and most reluctantly he draws away from her breast, even as her thickened heated brogue calls him closer and closer to her the whole time. But as he leans back he spies yet another little wonder her breasts offer them that just cannot be overlooked in this very particular circumstance they have so enthusiastically navigated themselves into. Charles lifts the glass again as he almost engulfs her right breast in his other massive hand and pushes it firmly upwards, causing her scar to cup even deeper. Elsie gasps, wide-eyed, as she sees and realises _exactly_ what he is going to do for her. For them.

"Oh yes, Charles… oh please yes… do it .. yess ..yess… " she breathes out ecstatically and she watches his every move with rapt attention, desperately trying to still her swirling, dancing hips as he does so.

Charles has shuffled between her open legs, pausing briefly as he feels a sharp twinge driving low in himself, but then he concentrates intently as he leans in to sip the wine from Elsie's beautiful scar- the one he never knew she even had until two days ago, that mark that has for all of these years carried the truth of the time when his heart sang out in joy for her life. He groans with heavy and strangely happy lust into this part Elsie's fearful history. He loves all of her and he loves building these new memories of pleasure between them on her unique and beautiful body- refashioning their pain into something beautiful again with his incredibly passionate and giving wife.

 _I adore you!_

Elsie watches him raptly and does nothing to kerb her high-pitched sighs of excitement and the increasingly rapid and sinuous dance her hips are performing on the couch, arching her centre towards him as her belly undulates with every hot panting breath she takes as she flows closer to her completion.

She feels hot and sweaty and sticky with wine and so absolutely loved and adored and wonderful and she won't stop. She won't. Not when both of them want this all- all of it. So very much.

"Oh Charles …Charles ...I love you. I love you... want you… want you to…" she pants out frantically as she reaches up to run her tensed and yearning fingers through his hair and starts guiding his licks and kisses lower. Charles blissfully abides and she revels in his baby smooth shaved cheeks running like silk over her soft and rapidly pulsating belly.

"Ha-ugh… a chagair … aaahhaggher … Ye _s_ s …Ye _s_ s… Oh yes!… she arches high to feel more of his delicious sweet face on her, to help him breathe in that lush and heady aroma of hers that he has told her he so loves. Charles pauses at her navel his hands spanning over her hips and holding her dance under slight but loving restraint, even as his thumb pads circle slowly through her dark curls, moistened with the finest of red wines and her own fruitful passions, making her writhe even harder against him. Charles dips his tongue into the centre of her undulating belly, snuffling into the beautiful softness of her and licking the final drop of rich red wine from her Rubenesque dips and curves.

When he has tasted it all and savoured the underlying musky floral sweetness that he equates only with his Elsie, Charles goes to sit back on his heels on his journey even lower on his wife's delicious body. But he seizes suddenly and cannot help a sharp breath whistling through his teeth as he winces in pain. Elsie's head is thrown well back onto the headrest, eyes closed and with one hand raised and gripping white knuckled to the top of the chair stretching her soft curves out in that unusually muscular and potent way that he absolutely adores. In her ecstasy, she has not yet registered his predicament. And Charles does not want to see her stop. Not now. Not in the midst of all this wonder. Thinking fast, Charles reaches for the glass on the floor again and takes her free hand and dips her fingers into the liquor. The coolness whips her eyes down to his and he slowly brings her fingers to his mouth and lovingly draws each wine dripped digit long and slow into his mouth, savouring each sensitive finger along the valley of his tongue, then tickling the arched webbing at the base of each of them with the very tip of his tongue- deep into those places that he knows can bring her to the absolute brink for them. She is panting wildly now, and once he has cleared all the flavoursome wine from her fingers and has her lust-fuelled and fiery eyes drilling right into his own, he slowly and deliberately guides her love licked fingers down to her own centre. She gasps loudly and her eyes widen in surprise that she should even do this, or that Charles would want her to. But his eyes tell her clearly, _Yes! You can, Love. I want you to. I want this for us. It is all right. You should. I love you, Elsie._

And he begins the sliding movement of her own sweet fingers across her most sensitive liquid core and as she continues to moan out her pleasure more robustly and as he feels her starting to direct the movements of her own hand for herself, Charles finally pushes himself backwards and up, managing not to groan out loud in agony as his knee unlocks with a very loud click and he flops himself back into the other red chair to stretch his leg out in front of him removing the pressure of the grinding pain that had just gripped him. But soon all his minor woes are forgotten as he takes in the full sight of his luscious wife, stretched back taut on to the chair, toes curled and thigh muscles tightened as she strains up against the finely strung vines of all her wild desires staring in lustful wonder at him- determined and powerful and pleasuring herself so freely in front of him, tinged streaks of sticky red wine still cling lightly on her torso and breasts and the light catches the shiny residue of his own tongue's languorous paths across her divine and bounteous body.

 _Absolute manna from heaven,_ he thinks wildly as fresh heat surges across his own muscle tightened thighs and he clenches his fists on the arms of the chair to hold himself in check, desperately wishing that Elsie's hands were free to roam across his hardness now, but also relishing the kindling fire within him being held under fierce restraint so that he can keep himself for all that his wife may want and need from him later.

Elsie gazes longingly at his vigorous and ready manhood, shamelessly exposed between the folds of his pristine and soft white robe. The contrast is excruciatingly beautiful to her and she feels it in the bizarre extremes of sensations and thoughts that swing wildly through her body and mind at the moment. She feels so wonderfully womanly and beautiful and strong when she sees him so excited for her and willing her so openly to find her ecstasy for herself, right here in front of him. And at the same time, all of her upbringing and years of modesty and restraint are fighting desperately to tell her to stop what she is doing for it is all wrong. _Surely this is wrong?_ But she is so close …so very, very close and it is just so good- just like their lovemaking this morning _. So like that. That was good. So good_. _So how is this wrong?_ She somehow reasons out in the middle of her fervour. _This is me! This is me! For us! I want this!_ And Charles is just so _very_ beautiful to her. But she can't. She can't. _Can't quite_. And her strained thoughts tumble frantically from her lips even as she keeps moving herself and chasing fiercely that bliss she knows is housed within her.

"I..I… I can't Charles… Shouldn't. Charles! Can't! I can't! "

And Charles is frantically and desperately aroused himself and he calls her on guiding her through all her rough strife. "Yes! Yes, you can, Love! You can, Elsie-love. Yes, you can. This is all for you. We want this- for you. For us, Els. It's all right. For us. You can. You can."

And his fervent loving words of affirmation and acceptance are all she needs. She sees him. She sees him fully – her wonderful loving and giving and passionate man. Charles manages to lean towards her from his chair and brushes his gentle fingertips over her the bumps and dips of her double strand pearl necklace – _Our_ _life. My wife. Elegant. Wild. Refined. Beautiful. So very beautiful and free._ He draws his avid tingling fingers down over her deeply reddened breast, brushes tenderly through the cup of her scar and swirls a single fingertip over her tightened nipple, and as she tenses even harder against the vigorous movements of her own fingers he carefully pinches at that perfectly stiff little nub and wishes desperately that he could manoeuvre his legs enough so that he can taste it all over again, roll it over his tongue, she sees his want for her and she wants this too- she does. She does! She feels it all in the pitch and roll and she arcs forcefully against herself and finds her place high and safe and free and never alone. _Never!_ Never ever alone with Charles right by her side.

"Ahaggherer! Ah! Ahh ! Charles. Charles. Love…Love … Oh Dhiol! Haugh- aha- aah! Ye _sss_!"

And in a final shattering spark she coils into herself and holds herself together holds onto her centre. For herself. For her own sake. And for them. She shakes until she settles stunned and silent around her own supporting hand.

"Elsie… Hh my Elsie. My love. My beautiful love," he sings out low to her- melodious and sweet as he caresses his hand lightly over the back of her exposed arm and slowly down to her sweat-slicked back. The action uncurls her in a reflex of loving openness and she flops back gloriously sated into her crumpled white robe upon her deep red chair.

"O dhiol… Oh Charles.. I…I… can't believe I just did that…"

"Beautiful, my love.' He soothes her quietly with his voice. "It was so very beautiful. You are beautiful, Elsie-love. Beautiful."

His soft words calm him too, even though he is still throbbing with want and remains excruciatingly hard for her. But Charles revels in the slow dance of restraint that the give and take of their evening seduction has shaped around them. Charles merely reaches towards his glorious wife to complete his lesson on appreciating the finest flavours the world has to offer this one particular man. He lifts Elsie's still shining fingers to his mouth and sucks each of them slow and long onto the valley of his tongue as Elsie continues panting hot and heavy breaths into the night air and he shamelessly watches the last deep pulsing redness of her ecstasy slowly calming as she relaxes heavily into the safety of their private sensual space of loving acceptance. He breathes in the slightest amount of cooling air past the sensitive webbing of her fingers that he has first moistened with the very tip of his tongue, relishing all of Elsie's sweet aromas over his discerning pallet, then rolling all of her full–bodied flavours across his entire tongue and savouring completely her fine and rich smooth finish. Elsie groans long and low as she looks in wonderment at the feelings of blissful enjoyment shining clear and bright on the face of her very own personal Butler- her magical poet-lover- as he attends to her every possible need and desire again. Elsie struggles to believe, once more, what an astoundingly giving and comfortable and creative lover her Charles has proven himself to be with her- and how comfortable and creative and giving a lover she has found herself to be as well. Charles devotions overwhelm her as much as her own actions at times. But she is so very grateful - for all of it– and for him- her Charles. Unbidden, a thought flashes to the front of her mind.

 _Alice was an utter fool!_

But it disappears just as quickly as it had risen and Elsie just revels in all of Charles devoted affection and attention being directed to her alone. She loves how he kisses her fingers. She sighs and pants deeply as she feels the aftershocks of her peaks of pleasure still pulsing and shuddering through her as his tongue languidly explores all her flavours held lightly in her own hand. The broadest smile rises over her face as the more important truth of the moment and the reality of the rest of her life shouts out loudly inside her head, _I can have this! It's all mine! He's all mine!_ With him, she feels so totally herself _. Astounding_ , she realises in a flash- to be able to find out new things about herself- all of her wants and needs and desires- some hidden for so very long, others she could never have fathomed to have existed at all- now brought to the surface after all of these years. _How strange it is._ _How very wonderful and strange!-_ to be able build upon and enrich all that she has ever been within the safety of their marriage and this love- to be accepted so entirely by her man, who only wants for her to accept and embrace herself fully and embrace all that they can be together too. Unconditionally. Just them.

"My wonderful Charles," she manages to whisper out- languid and slightly slurred.

Charles smiles knowingly and with bright and happy love shining right back at her as he locks her newly caressed and blessed fingers through his own and sighs out his contentment at being able to see his Elsie so very happy and relaxed and shining brightly for herself and for them all over again.

And as painfully aroused as Charles has become in watching Elsie rise through her pleasure once again, there is still no rush. He is quite prepared to wait for her so that he may be with her again fully when she is ready. So, he disregards his urgent physical needs for the moment, knowing that the greatest delights of her body will all be there for him when she says the word, and he wants to be in no doubt that he will be ready for her then as well. But after their emotional and, particularly for Elsie, intensely physical day, he knows that she needs more rest too. They will not have to rush tomorrow morning, they can take as much of the night or even the early mornings they need. They needn't even pack their own bags as the room valet service can do all of that for them, and their train ride will also afford them a private first class carriage to rest in cosy comfort with each other all the way to Scarborough. Everything is arranged neatly to give them world enough and time for all they want to share within these four walls right now and for the remainder of their honeymoon.

With this in mind, Charles light-heartedly suggests the next leisurely move for them both.

"Well, then, now that it appears that mon forfaitairre de gelee fondante is finally ready, why don't we repair to our conjugal bed, Mrs Carson, for our coffee and pudding."

He delights in the fit of hearty giggling this engenders in Elsie, and which he is now becoming more accustomed to with her in the aftermath of her ecstasy as her joy continues to overwhelm her and rise to the surface to find air and life and release, either through tears or with laughter, and sometimes with both. He understands and accepts it all. Elsie manages to contain herself a little so that she doesn't actually snort out in an unladylike manner again.

"Och, Charles," she breathes out across her still panting breath, "how…how is it you make me laugh so? I mean.. haah…I have always had my _suz-picions_ that there might be a cheeky rascal hidden inside that serious Butler of mine somewhere,' she haltingly stumbles the sentence out.

"And where, pray tell, have I ever given you cause to think that?" Suddenly Charles is little worried that he may have been ridiculous in the eyes of the understaff too often over the years. In front of his one Elsie-love right now it no longer matters, of course.

Elsie sees the worried look on his face and even though her mind feels decided fuzzy right now, she understands immediately his concerns for who he has presented himself to be over the years at the Abbey. She reassures him instinctively in her thick, relaxed and sated brogue, sounding almost as if she is mildly intoxicated, which Elsie supposes blearily, in a way, she actually is.

"Och, don't worry Charles," she drawls out lovingly, as she remains somewhat debilitated by her afterglow and stays openly sprawled back into her chair, her robe making her feel like she is floating on top of a fluffy high cloud on a clear and breezy day. "Hmmm …it is subtle, I'll not deny that, … it _ohnl_ y shows to those who are ob- ob- observant enough, _ohng_ -ly sometimes… hmmm…" she sighs out languidly, surprised she can even command this much speech, and strangely her voice does sound and feel like it is actually coming to her from somewhere else entirely. _This must be bliss,_ her foggy mind tells her in amongst all these other strange and swirling sensations. She yawns widely, too slack-muscled to bother with covering her mouth. "Everyone is entitled to laugh sometimes you know, Charles, even a stern old Butler like you, Love… it is just, … I see it in the way you have handled the l _iii_ kes," she yawns over the top of the word, "the likes of Mr Molesley over the years. And then… with the young ones sometimes too." She snuffs out a slow laugh at the memories assailing her now. "Or when you hear some of Mrs Patmore's little lines and jabs and… and you respond in that _VERY_ serious manner of yours," she hams out for some unknown reason over a very full and pouty bottom lip. "It's there, though. It's always made me smile," and she manages to smile goofily at him.

Elsie finally registers Charles has been smirking at her all this time, and she cannot work out if it is because of her reassuring words, or something else entirely. _Doesn't matter,_ her addled mind sputters gently to her.

Charles, for his part, is smiling for the sight of his Elsie-love, truly becoming, and surely the most delightful lump of melting jelly he has ever seen, and one who is so innocently trying to hold a lucid conversation from somewhere within her completely love-fugged mind! _Indescribably precious. I love you, Elsie- any which way you are. Always._

"Haah…" she sighs lazily again and he grins even wider at her." I do like it, Charles. You know that?" And she smiles and leans to pat sloppily at his clickiest knee. "But it is _aaalll_ confirmed now, Cheeky Charles. I have never known you to be such a joker before this weekend."

"I suspect there may be much we have kept hidden from one another over the years, Mrs Hughes." He says quietly as he continues to smile at the woman who was once Mrs Hughes to him, now acting in this strange, new love-drunk way.

"So it would seem." Elsie yawns widely again. "But don't worry, this can be our little secret," she whispers conspiratorially to him as she smiles a silly wide smile at him.

Charles does wonder briefly if Elsie may have actually had a little too much wine to drink at dinner, for he has never seen Mrs Hughes anywhere _near_ being tipsy, and he actually hopes that he never will. He has never enjoyed seeing the sorry state that inevitably arrives one step after that level of insobriety, in himself or anyone else. However, he does know that Elsie was quite in charge of all her faculties as they left the balcony earlier, so it mustn't be the wine speaking. This makes him feel outrageously happy for the loving effect they can actually have on one another.

Elsie continues her stumbling speech to him, "I like my Cheeky Charles- and I think I might just keep him _aaalll_ to myself. Haaa…" she sighs out contentedly and takes his other hand as well, finally commanding her brain just enough to sound briefly more coherent. "Come. Somehow we have to get these jelly legs of mine and your old clicky knees over to that bed, Charles. Help each other up, hmm?"

Charles is surprised that Elsie can even recall hearing his knee give out when she was in the midsts of her fervour, and then he finally releases the chuckle he has been trying to hold back behind his wickedly smirking mouth as he sat through that whole strange soliloquy from Elsie.

"Am I allowed to groan out loud, Els ?"

She actually does snorts out at that.

"Feel free," she says tiredly. "I will likely be joining you in the sentiment, my Cheeky clicky-kneed Charles. I'm going to keep you _aaalll_ for me. Hmmm...I doubt we will be able to keep much hidden from each other now we are married, anyway."

"I think you might be right there." He smiles as he senses that Elsie may be briskly forgetting much that she has said only moments before.

"Come on, Mr Carson, let's get Jenson to send that dessert up for us." She yawns widely again, "Hmmm… then I'll rub your knees for a while and you can read a little more Thomson's to me if you are up to it."

Charles doesn't hold much hope that Elsie will stay awake to fulfil her promise, but he appreciates the sentiment all the same.

"You're good to me. You know that don't you, Els?"

"Feeling's mutual," Elsie, sighs out happily as she thinks fuzzily back across their day and finds she is still in quite some awe over the Charles Carson she is getting to know- what with his unwavering attention to her wants and needs, not to mention the fact that she is feeling shocked over the sheer amount of pleasure found within herself and that she has somehow found the energy to chase so often with him today. _He certainly has been a man of his word!_

They laugh together as both their bodies emit unavoidable loud clicks of ageing soreness and they groan in semi-exhaustion as they unfold themselves from their stupidly low slung chairs. Elsie pats Charles arm slowly and lovingly as they support each other to the valet sideboard and he calls through their instructions to Jenson, wisely choosing for dessert to be sent up in over an hour and a half's time, so as to allow them some space to rest first. Then they limp and stagger slightly towards their gloriously enticing bed, falling into a silly giggling heap when they finally make it there.

oOOo

Now up to reading the mutually adored final sections of the _Spring_ poem, Charles continues it in a quiet soothing voice. Elsie is too limp and sweetly sapped of energy to sit up properly just yet so she shuffles to lie cross-ways on the bed with a pillow so that she can massage around Charles' knees as they drape heavily across her middle.

Before too long he hears a light snoring sound through the timber of his own melodic words and feels Elsie's hand wilt away from him as the comforting weight of his bare skin against her tummy sees her slide gently into a love-drugged doze. He smiles down lovingly at her. _My Elsie snores after too much loving!_ He finds the notion stupidly endearing, and he files it away in the ledger of his heart- one more secret that only they will ever share. He slides down to join her on her pillow so that he can gaze more closely in wonder and adoration at his brand-new wife and the new life that it all brings to him as he spins a length of her silky hair repeatedly through his lazy fingers.

"I love you, pretty Elspeth" he whispers into her ear as he lies long against her body on his side and she snuggles into him instinctively.

He knows she is fast asleep, but he wants to recite for her the stanza in the poem that he feels best describes them- because of all the years they have spent side by side together already, and because of what they have found in each other this week and all the promise it represents for them as a brand new pair. He will share it with her again when she is awake, maybe even as they eat their pudding, but he wants its truth to colour all her sweet dreams right now. From memory he speaks the words low into her ear and as she registers his nearness in the tones that seep below the heavy blanket of her sleep, she turns fully into him and unconsciously rests her open palm upon his chest, right above where Charles feels his heart is about to burst out through his skin. He holds her hand tightly to him and runs his fingertip along her wedding band. And, as when he proposed marriage to her, the only outlet for the irrational amount of pressure this feeling of pure love places on his being is through the prickling of hot tears in his eyes. Elsie's poet-lover leans in, close and warm, to speak the words thickly and ardently to his beloved as he continues to stroke her hair back around the shell of her waiting ear.

oOOo

 _BUT happy they! the happiest of their kind!_

 _Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate_

 _Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend._

 _'Tis not the coarser tie of human laws,_

 _Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind,_

 _That binds their peace, but harmony itself,_

 _Attuning all their passions into love;_

 _Where friendship full-exerts his softest power,_

 _Perfect esteem enliven'd by desire_

 _Ineffable, and sympathy of soul,_

 _Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will,_

 _With boundless confidence; for nought but love_

 _Can answer love, and render bliss secure._

 _oOOo_

And as he rests his head down on the pillow next to hers, basking in the warm afterglow of Elsie's bliss, the last long remembered lines of the poem lilt silently through Charles' own mind as he drifts away with his Elsie for the while.

oOOo

 _Till evening comes at last, cool, gentle, calm;_

 _When after the long vernal day of life,_

 _Enamour'd more, as soul approaches soul,_

 _Together, down they sink in social sleep._

oOOo

 **CECECECECE**

 **Author Notes:**

 **On Thomson's _Seasons:_**

 **These small passages from James Thomson's _Seasons_ suite I have shamelessly pilfered for my own selfish aims and may be found right towards the end of the _Spring_ section.**

 **(Lines 1030-1042) and (Lines 1084-1087)**

 **There are many free public domain versions of this Thomson's Seasons suite of poems (written variously across 1726-1730 and edited continuously by the poet until roughly the 1746 imprint). Try kindle,** ibooks **and the like to get the full text. However, the following URL provides a version with correct stanza breaks and line numbers. Although, the page breaks do make it look like there are more stanzas than there actually are when** read **in this digital format.**

 **. /e/ecco/004810089.0001.000/1:6?rgn=div1;view=fulltext**

 **It is a very lengthy and rambling piece, especially the _Spring_ and _Summer_ sections. The writing preceded by many years, but is quite indicative of, the Romantic era poets (Roughly 1770-1840's- ish) and the emotional and spiritual movements of that time in this, and in other artistic realms. At its heart, many poets and writers' of Romantic the movement (Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, etc.) works were spontaneous outpourings of that artist's emotions about such things as the nature of love, the glory of God, or divinity as being inherent/ imbued within nature's many wonders. As such, Thomson's Season's suite was a huge influence on these famous poets' later works.**

 **Scottish-born (1700-1748), Thomson's work was wildly popular and consistently in reprint, and again, I think it reasonable that Charles and Elsie owned imprints of the complete suite for themselves.**

 **Visual artists who idealised/ revered nature in this way during the Romantic era , and that Charles and Elsie would likely** known **of, are British artist JWB Turner (Elsie's new favourite!) and German artist Caspar David Friedrich, and even Thomas Gainsborough- whom I think of as a favourite of Charles's because he also painted many portraits for the British peerage. Anyway, just think big majestic sweeping landscape paintings.**

 **Side note: Thomson also wrote the patriotic work _Rule Britannia!_ that was set to music by Thomas Arne and it is the famous call to arms song still sung by a nation of Brits today.**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Other Authorial Musings:**

 **By rights, I suppose I could finish this wee romance on this note quite easily, and the same could probably be said of any number of my other chapters, I suppose! And, I am aware that my writing is becoming weightier and that I have drawn these couple of days in London out to extraordinarily detailed lengths. As one reviewer has quite reasonably suggested, it may be time to move this narrative along- and I will do that… eventually! The Scarborough part of their honeymoon will only equate to a few final chapters- and the days of wine and roses there for Elsie and Charles will be skipped and brushed over a lot more, to be sure. However, I still have one more intricate and loving chapter for our daft old boobies on their London sojourn- because that it is what popped into my mind.**

 **My reasons for continuing this fiction have morphed substantially along the winding complex road of its composition. And I am afraid that I will not apologise for the more ponderous and long-winded nature of the whole thing at this latter stage of its development. After all, I am not profiting from this beyond the learning experience it has become for me as a novice writer. This piece has been a journey through complex character feelings about all sorts of big things- from JFs plotting issues and drastic character anomalies through to an exploration of deeper human condition stuff, and for me, it has also been about the nature of romantic genre of storytelling itself.**

 **So, I will issue this warning to you now: I do have at least one more chapter set in Scarborough that is going to be absolutely huge- but I will not cut it up as it is a** **real-time event and conversation that I need Charles and Elsie to live through together- and yes it is probably more for my own selfish benefit. Technically, they gain nothing- for they will ever be fictional characters! I do love how ridiculous that inherently makes all of this! Maybe it's worth will only live as important and real within my own heart- and that is ok.**

 **So, I am sorry (but not really sorry!), if lengthy reads are not your thing. But do keep in mind that we all have a choice as to when we switch the television off.**

 **Thank you to all who have persisted with this rambling intricate description of some days in the life of Charles and Elsie. I appreciate your efforts, and I do hope this story has been mostly enjoyable for you.**

 **I hope to be back before too long with the last London chapter I will write.**

 **Kind regards,**

 **BorneToFlow. : )**


	37. Chapter 37- Fascinatin' Rhythms

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 37- Facsinatin' Rhythms**

 **CECECECECE**

 _"I love you, pretty Elspeth" he whispers into her ear as he lies long against her body on his side and she snuggles into him instinctively._

 _He knows she is fast asleep, but he wants to recite for her the stanza in the poem that he feels best describes them- because of all the years they have spent side by side together already, and because of what they have found in each other this week and all the promise it represents for them as a brand new pair. He will share it with her again when she is awake, maybe even as they eat their pudding, but he wants its truth to colour all her sweet dreams right now. From memory he speaks the words low into her ear and as she registers his nearness in the tones that seep below the heavy blanket of her sleep, she turns fully into him and unconsciously rests her open palm upon his chest, right above where Charles feels his heart is about to burst out through his skin. He holds her hand tightly to him and runs his fingertip along her wedding band. And, as when he proposed marriage to her, the only outlet for the irrational amount of pressure this feeling of pure love places on his being is through the prickling of hot tears in his eyes. Elsie's poet-lover leans in, close and warm, to speak the words thickly and ardently to his beloved as he continues to stroke her hair back around the shell of her waiting ear._

 _oOOo_

BUT happy they! the happiest of their kind!

Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate

Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend.

'Tis not the coarser tie of human laws,

Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind,

That binds their peace, but harmony itself,

Attuning all their passions into love;

Where friendship full-exerts his softest power,

Perfect esteem enliven'd by desire

Ineffable, and sympathy of soul,

Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will,

With boundless confidence; for nought but love

Can answer love, and render bliss secure.

 _oOOo_

 _And as he rests his head down on the pillow next to hers, basking in the warm afterglow of Elsie's bliss, the last long remembered lines of the poem lilt silently through Charles' own mind as he drifts away with his Elsie for the while._

 _oOOo_

Till evening comes at last, cool, gentle, calm;

When after the long vernal day of life,

Enamour'd more, as soul approaches soul,

Together, down they sink in social sleep.

 _oOOo_

 _ **CECECECECE**_

 **The Ritz, London.**

 **Monday 31st May- Tuesday 1st June,** **1926**

 **Very late, or very early, indeed.**

Charles is sprawled back like a silver-haired sultan on a cloud of pillows- bare-chested, robes rumpled and filled with jelly cake and coffee, lightly dozing.

" _Fascinatin' rhythm_

 _You got me on the go_

 _Fascinatin' rhythm_

 _I'm all a-quiver."_

Elsie giggles happily to herself as she sings softly as the coffee spoons she drumming is on Charles with make his whole soft white belly quiver under the rhythm of her beats. Charles opens one eye and takes in the rather incongruous sight of Elsie sitting astride his legs in a barely closed white robe with his top hat perched back on her head and her long hair spilling wildly out from under it- a huge sunny smile upon her face. He raises a particularly nonplussed eyebrow at her, which only serves to make her laugh harder as she continues her silly tune on his bare skin.

" _Do do do do do do_ – Phrrr!"

"I can't believe you just did that!" Charles exclaims, his eyes now wide open as she continues her song. "Elsie! You just blew a raspberry on me!"

" _Oh!_ _Won't you take a day off_ " she continues humming through her broadly smiling lips, and with cheeky glimmer in her eyes she continues the lyric,

" _And try to move along_

 _Somewhere far off_

 _and _ make_ it_ snappy."_

She intersperses the last line with increasingly expansive teaspoon tummy drumbeats, her movements making his large top hat thud down over her eyes, perching just on the tip of her nose.

"Ha! HA! – Yes! I _did_ , you daft old booby!" She states blindly and finishes in all seriousness, "Your head is unconscionably large, did you know that, Carson the Magnificent?"

Seizing his moment, Charles takes up the last lines of the song in his determined and deep baritone.

" _Oh! how I long to be the man_

 _I used to beee…"_

He moves with astounding speed as he grabs Elsie by the hips, lifts and flips her back onto the mattress, the top hat flying from her head and tickles her mercilessly on the backs of her knees. Elsie squeals in delight and tries to wriggle free of him as she beats uselessly at his chest with the one teaspoon she managed to keep a hold of.

" _Fascinatin' woman_

 _Won't you stop pickin' on meee!"_

"Ah! No! no! no! Charles, Stop! Don't tickle me! No! Stop!" she shouts as she laughs uncontrollably, tears soon streaming from her eyes.

Charles hams it up boisterously and laughs like a maniacal pantomime villain as he slams the top hat back onto his own head. "Ha! Ha! HA! There shall be _no_ escape, young maiden!" and he rapidly moves his roaming fingers to other places on her body that he has found will drive Elsie wild with desire if he were to tend to them in an entirely different manner. But they are all wonderfully ticklish right now and he reduces her to a heap of giggling helplessness. Finally, he relents to her requests, for he knows the worth of comic timing and the joke may well be over soon, especially as she is liable to cause him a serious mischief if she keeps thrashing her legs around in that way, trying to get away from him. With a final bellowing and devilish laugh, he dives his head into her neck and pretends to bite into her jugular like a vampire. But instead, he slows to an unexpectedly deep and sensuous suckling of the soft skin underneath her jawline. He can feel Elsie melt back from the tension of trying to move him off of her. He feels the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his sliding tongue and she moans appreciatively as she flops her arms out in happy abandon onto the pillows above her head as she sighs out her relief, her fingers smoothing over the fine silk of his top hat that has toppled off his head and onto the pillow.

"Haah! mmm... Charles, you… mm mm… oh yesss.." both their smiles broadening as he manages to turn the play of events in such a delightful new direction. "Hmm.. I love you so, a chagair... keep doing that please… mmm, Cha _rr_ les."

"Have you finished picking on me, yet? Wreaking havoc with the coffee spoons and making fun of my oversized bonce and my big fat belly, my fascinating woman- Hmm?" He mumbles into her neck.

"Well, I guess you _would_ look a little silly if your head were actually any smaller on _your_ big frame," and she giggles as this silly vision of him waltzes through her brain. "And it's not 'fat' Charles… well… not _really_ … I prefer to think of it as ...just...very _cuddly_ … ooh!... that is so _h_ good, a chagair."

Charles speaks in between the kisses he is running all over Elsie's neck and down onto her collarbones, "Be that as it may, Mrs Hughes, it is still a decidedly inappropriate and undignified way for a Butler to be handling the silverware."

"Never fear, oh Carson the Magnificent!" she proclaims outlandishly as she waves the remaining spoon above her head in an expansive flourish "for it is actually _**I**_ the fair Lady Carson who wields the legendary coffee spoon of grand silliness above your head. The honour of this house shall once more remain intact whilst you are at the helm, oh noble Sir Carson de Clicky-knees of Downton!"

"Well, it is now official, my wife is absolutely as nutty as a fruit cake" Charles is looking up at her with bright eyes and a wide grin as he shakes his head at her in disbelief. _Is this really Mrs Hughes, stern–faced housekeeper of Downton Abbey? Who cares? I love her anyway!_ Charles cannot help but chuckle effusively at all of her silliness. _My Elsie-love is happy. Life is so very good._

She giggles happily before moaning once more and sliding leisurely beneath the fascinating sensations of his re-focussed ministrations beneath her ear. "Hmm… that is _soh_ lovely, Charles. Pfhhh…oh yess," she draws in a sharp breath, "Oh, my man." Hmmm,…" she sighs as Charles continues his lazy and loving path back down her neck and across to her warm, smooth shoulders. A thought strikes Elsie and she speaks it aloud before she has even realised that she required any elucidation on the matter. "Hmmm… Charles-love,… do you really want to be the man you used to be,… when we get back to the Abbey?

"Hmm?" he stops his slow exploration of her skin and looks up at Elsie intently and decides to answer what is really a very serious question in the manner it deserves. "Even if I wanted to be, Elsie, which I am increasingly certain that I do not, there is no way I can ever go back to being the man I used to be. Everything has changed, Els- _everything_. And I find I am liking that fact more and more each moment that I am with you." And he kisses her soft lips most tenderly. "I am your man now, as I said, and I just _am_ a different man now that I am married. Well, not completely, really…It's just that I am _more_ than I once was if that makes sense – and I cannot hide from that… and I really do not think I want to."

"Hmm, I feel so very changed too, Charles… the same but so very different. It's strange, isn't it? After all of these years…where you think you have come to know who you really are. Hmm… but I guess you were right, life does keep changing us…"

"Hmm… I do believe so. But, besides anything else," he states firmly as he kisses her on the tip of her nose, "I most certainly do not want to give up _any_ of these new-found pleasures and this new life I have with you, not ever, a chagair." He says with deep conviction as he continues to look her right in the eyes.

"And you won't have to give them up. Isn't that such a lovely thought, a chagair?" She affirms as she strokes his face, absolutely loving his dedication to keeping such a clean-shaven chin for her.

"It certainly is gratifying to know, Elsie-love," he says softly as he continues to stroke her hair back from her face and traces his fingertips around the backs of her ears. She sighs out low and smiles appreciatively to him. "But you know, I really do not want to return to exactly how things used to be at the Abbey, Elsie. I guess who the Abbey and my work and my loves at the Abbey have made me – well, that will always be a part of me, of course, but I just _adore_ being married to you, and I have wanted to be _this_ kind of man too …for a very long time, truth be told." And his eyes glisten brightly as he looks at the relaxed and lovely face of his new wife- the one woman he can have and hold. It still overwhelms him. He continues, his voice thick with emotion. "As I told you earlier, I have chosen _this_ \- and I chose it just as surely and whole-heartedly as I chose my life in service once I had returned from that time out on the stage. I am entirely committed to this new life, my Elsie-love. I _am_ indentured solely to you within this marriage. It is the truest pledge I have ever taken, that I swear." Charles seals the truth of his oath once more with his lips on hers. "I love you my fair Lady Carson," he intones humbly, "and I was just very fortunate it is something you would choose to commit to as well… and…" he has slowed his speaking to a dreamy speed and cadence and a sweet smile rises over his whole face- so very close to hers, "oh Elsie, I just have such wonderful dreams of us living in our little cottage together on the estate now. We have been talking about and planning for retirement for quite long enough, don't you think? And I just want to have enough years left on this earth to actually enjoy all of that with you for a good while yet. I do think I can be ready for this next change life will bring us."

"But it _is_ going to be such a big change, though, Charles- retiring- for both of us. Do…do you really think we will be all right with it all?" Elsie actually sounds quite nervous about it all, despite having been the more vocal one this weekend about their possible activities and plans for retirement.

He continues to stroke the sides of her head soothingly through her wild love-mussed hair and speaks quietly as he holds her eyes intently.

"You have always taken change in your stride love, and you will with this too, with me right here by your side. And so long as _I_ _am_ by your side, Elsie-love, I believe I can cope with the changes it will all mean for me as a man who will no longer seen purely as the job he does at the Abbey. And you will too. You are so much more than just the Housekeeper of Downton Abbey, Love."

Elsie chews at her bottom lip, overwhelmed by his support for her again. Her voice is a little choked as she replies, "Thank you for that, my love."

"Hmm…And, granted, it will be very hard to let go of, I think- for both of us…well, …. there is no doubt of that, really, but,… I think we will have time to adjust better to it as we prepare Miss Baxter and Mr Barrow- and that will help. And, I think, well,… I _know_ that I will need that time to say a proper goodbye …to everything- to everyone-…and to finish that chapter of my life, so to speak."

"Aye, I will need all of that time too," she replies quietly. "I am glad we are talking about it all so openly now, Love. It helps. And I suppose we will be all right… now that we really _can_ do it all together, a chagair." And she brightens again at this sweet thought.

"Of course we will."

"I am so very glad of that. Hmm…It will be sad, though. But, I suppose it will be mostly done on our own terms, at least I think it will… and we _will_ always stay close to Downton, my Darling – always. I have no wish at all to be too far from my one true home for all these years- any more than you do."

"I love that you love our home, Els. It means so very much to me." His eyes are brimming with liquid gratitude. "But I certainly don't think I will leave be leaving with such a heavy heart as when I was considering the move to Haxby." Charles pecks Elsie lightly on the lips and then flops himself back on the pillows next to her with a large sigh. Her arms rests out long across the pillows and underneath the nape of his neck, her fingers still stroking lightly at the brim of the silk top hat she collected on a silly whim from the valet sideboard when she returned their dessert trolley into the foyer earlier. Charles gazes up at the plasterwork on the ceiling as they talk quietly together and his hand rests heavily and low on Elsie's belly, absently twirling his fingertips through the top of her curls- so comfortable and familiar and homely all these intimate affections are to them now. "Hmm… And I suppose now I realise, thanks to you, Elsie-love, that the Abbey will still continue to stand without us in it. Well, at least I hope it will always continue to stand and not come to the sad end of many of these estates and be demolished for building materials. But,…I guess in talking to you about the primogeniture of Trevor the Trout," he turns his head towards her and gleams cheekily at her for a moment, and she uses the extra movement it affords her arms to flick his topper back onto his incredibly large noggin and at a ridiculously rakish angle. It makes her smile for her very own cheeky and playful noble man, "it did all remind me of the transience of it all, Els- any of these lordly titles and estates can end, at any time really, as much as we may not want them to. And so, … I suppose I understand now, that for any of us, the upstairs family included, we could only ever really be fleeting travellers through the Abbey's grand history- that is all we are- that is how I have begun to see it all now, anyway- just as a great blessing for the time that we were lucky enough to be there within its walls."

"It has been that- for both of us, hasn't it?

"Mmm-Hmm… it certainly has. And so, even if I will not ever haunt its hallways as a ghost when I am gone, as I had originally imagined, Elsie, I can see that it is actually far better that I can live _now_ in the steady shadow of the Abbey while it lasts, and with all of the fond memories I have acquired over my days spent there- just so long as I have you by my side to share those moments with, Els. That's all that really matters now. And it will be more than enough for me to share that happiness with you. That is all I really want, Elsie-love- Always with you by my side." And he looks to the side once more to see her pretty face sharing his pillow and he reaches his far arm over to stroke her soft cheek with his fingertips.

"Aye, it will all go on standing, Charles, you sweet man. We both know that Lady Mary is far too attached to Downton to ever let it go the way of ruin without one _almighty_ fight first!" Charles smiles for this truth. It makes him feel secure that Elsie sees it that way for all of them. "Hmmm…Maybe those chapters are over, Charles-love… but this will be the very satisfying epilogue at the end. Don't you think?" And she smiles so happily at him, and she is just so bright-eyed and youthful that he cannot help but turn onto his side and kisses her with the broadest, happiest smile gracing his own lips and his hand squeezing heavily into the warm and steady flesh of her hips.

"Hmm… I love you so, my Charles. And I believe a wise man once said to me that there would be the little point of living if we didn't let life change us…. But it would mean even less if we couldn't share it all with someone that we love, don't you think?"

"That is such a lovely way to think of it all, Elsie. Thank you for that."

"You're welcome, love," and she kisses him lovingly once more.

Charles returns to nuzzling and nipping sweet kisses along one of Elsie's collarbones and across her shoulders again and brushing and fondling through her soft curls a little more firmly.

"Hmm…we do seem to have adjusted to these new …mmm… conditions of married life with … oh dear God… you are just _so_ o delicious… did you know that mon forfaitaire de gelee fondante? Ghrmmm… with…ooo… quite some aplomb… mmmm… _soo_ delightful!"

Elsie has begun moan ecstatically under his voracious kisses and at the French words he uses so seductively with her, no matter how silly they may actually be and she is squirming once more in anticipation beneath his loving embrace and attentions to her skin. She just cannot believe the amount of desire she feels for him, and how often she has wanted to chase those feeling of bliss with him, even though she truly does feel like a large melting lump of jelly- all slack-jointed and heavy-muscled. Charles really does make her feel every bit as delicious as he says. Charles moves to a more balanced and central position over her body, resting up on his elbows above her to continue his slow devotions across her whole chest. She presses his top hat a little more firmly onto his head, keeping it at its odd angle, for she finds it quite an alluring sight to look upon as it bobs about slightly with the movement of Charles' mouth slowlytravellingg across her body.

"Hmm… yess, Charles, that is ssoo wonderful. Hmm…You know, I do think we are becoming rather adept at handling this new married life thing we have together, a chagair," she states as she continues to revel in the heightened sensations in her core that the smooth stroking of his silk topper seems to give her.

"Hmmm… I think I have mentioned that already today, or at least…mmm …words to that effect. … You are just _soo_ lovely – utterly delectable you are , Madam Forfaitaire,"He murmurs in between his kisses. "It's really no surprise… mmm… for… you and I … mmm…have always been dedicated…. Oooh, so sweet, Love!... to doing a splendid job of things- grrrmmm… oooh, Elsie… no matter… mmm… what is thrown our way." Then he looks up into her eyes with infinite tenderness filtering through the depths of the fire he feels for her and he caresses the sides of her face, " we were always going to find a _certain_ level of mastery with all of _this_ before very long, don't you think, Mrs Hughes?"

"Ooh yes. I would say we have learnt these new ropes ve _rr_ y quickly indeed, Mr Ca _rr_ son," Elsie intones seductively, as she manages to crane her neck up a little to secure one of Charles' earlobes between her wanting lips and she proceeds to lavish it with loving nips and licks, making Charles release a rumbling purr of approval as his body shudders in delight above hers. Elsie stops suddenly "Wait!" she exclaims a little too loudly into his ear, "did you just call me Mrs _Lump_ , Charles!

He winces slightly. "Errr… Maaay-beee." And he looks up at her sheepishly with that rakishly tilted black hat highlighting the glistening playful darkness in his eyes." But I do find I really am quite partial to all of your delightful lumps and bumps, quite the attractive jelly mould you are, Madam Forfaitaire" he risks again as he grins wickedly at her.

Elsie is still holding one of her teaspoons from earlier and she fairly clocks Charles on the side of the head with it.

"Ow!"

"Oooh! You will pay for it if you make a habit of calling me _that_ , Charles Carson!"

"You know, I wouldn't go giving Mrs Patmore any more weapons for her arsenal of meat cleavers, Elsie- those coffee spoons can inflict more damage than I realised! Ow!" He breathes in sharply as he rubs his head. "That actually hurt!...Hmm, but still,… perhaps Madam Gélee is a far better description for you all around." And he grins mischievously at his gorgeous wife.

"AND! Mr Archimedes, or Carson the Magnificent- or Sir Carson-Clicky- whoever- you-are! I will thank you to _not_ conjure up any more disturbing visions of Beryl when you are midway through having your wicked way with me!" And she pointedly brandishes the silverware above his head again- trying not to break into a big silly grin herself.

Charles ducks his head and starts humming a different tune against the hollow of Elsie's neck as a means to extricate himself from his current predicament.

" _Oh, oh, ohh… please have some pity!_

 _I'm all alone in this great big city,"_ he rumbles out as he dives his head down further, and ravishes Elsie's breasts with his hungry kisses, sending her moaning into forgetful absolution of this latest infraction of his.

"Mmmmm….and you are _never_ going to alone – my love, not if you keep that up- oh … ooh…hmmm, Charles. Not in this city now, and _not_ _ever_ at Downton."

Charles grins up at Elsie, happily aroused himself from his pleasant explorations of Elsie's skin and from the sounds of her desired filled moans.

"I do know that, my Love", and he keeps on with the song that is in his heart as he returns to lavishing all her luscious dips bumps and lumps and curves with his kisses

"… _and Oh sweet and lovely_

 _Hmm-hm hm hm._

 _Oh, lady be good._

 _Please, be good to me!"_

Oh, I think it might now be well and _truly_ time to show you _just_ how good your lady can be to you, Mr Carson."

And with that she motions for him to roll off her and onto his back, which of course Charles willingly complies with, given the current poor state of his old knees. He places the top hat back on Elsie's head and smiles that irrepressibly happy smile up at her, taking in her strange attire- the white fluffy open fronted cape of her bathrobe, her wild long hair streaked magically with silver, the elegant pearls and the ridiculously large and tilted black top hat to finish the ensemble. A more incongruous vision of Mrs Hughes he could never have imagined – not even his wildest dreams. But this truly is his Elsie-love now and he loves it all. _All of her_. She straddles his lap once more- rolling her hips seductively over him and looking upon him with dark and desire filled eyes. _She is just soo_ _ridiculously delightful!_ He thinks gleefully and groans out so blissfully for this glorious woman, for this wonderful new wife of his and for his brand new life with her.

Charles continues singing his little ditty his arms splayed out wide across the bed, waiting for Elsie to have her own wicked way with him.

" _And I'm just a lonesome babe in the woods._

… _hmm Lady be good._

 _Please, be good to me!"_

"Och! You can hardly lay claim to being _that_ anymore, Charles, not after this weekend we have just had, you delightfully wicked man."

"Is that a step up or down from being a Daft Old Booby , or a Silly Duffer… or your Curmudgeonly Old Stick-in-the-Mud, Elsie-love?" He asks with mock seriousness as he fills his warm hands with her soft and fleshy hips.

"Oh, they are all one and the same, my love, one and the same! And let's not forget the slightly aged but eternally noble and _very_ romantic Sir Carson de Clicky-knees," She giggles out at her new name for him, "or the highly amusing and slightly clumsy Mr Archimedes, that young rascal now known as Cheeky Charles, _AND_ the truly _astonishing_ Carson the Magnificent! … And well.. you were quite right about not being able to disprove the existence of some small devil in you tonight too, Mr Carson! But, fear not!" She declares gleefully once more, brandishing her teaspoon high above her head again, "for I find that I cannot rightly separate any of them and your fair Lady Carson happens to adore all of them equally, my man," she tells him with a broad grin and bright love for him shining over her whole face as she reverently touches the silverware to his right and then his left shoulder in a mock-accolade to his new knightly status. "Arise good Sir Carson de-Clicky knees!'

"Oh, I think you can tell that I am _quite_ honoured at this moment and that should be no problem whatsoever, my fair Lady Carson!"

And they both chuckle with lust filled glee at all their shared passions and silly innuendoes. Then they groan deeply and appreciatively as Elsie guides herself up over Charles and then slowly envelops him completely in the heat of their shared love. His dark top hat looms large and closer to him as he catches the mesmerising glint of light off the crystal clasp of Elsie's necklace as she leans forward and her breasts and nipples press into his chest as she captures his mouth in a deep, sensuous and desire laden kiss as they begin the completion of their evening long seduction of one another.

" _My man_ " she groans into his lips.

And Charles murmurs back, most lovingly onto her lips- his truest, most complete name that encompasses all the many facets Elspeth Mae Hughes/Carson that enthral and beguile him, and that will keep him on his toes- guessing and happy- for the rest of his days:

" _My Lady."_

oOOo

 **CECECECECE**

 **Next up :** **Fair Scarborough!- Finally!**


	38. Chapter 38- Seaside Entertainments

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 38- Seaside Entertainments**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Scarborough, Yorkshire. Southern Cove Esplanade**

 **Tuesday 1** **st** **June 1926**

After their arrival in Scarborough on their afternoon train from London, Charles and Elsie settle into their new rooms at the massive Grand Hotel on the southern cove of the seaside resort town. It is a busy time in the holiday season. Such a strange thing it is to be part of the holidaying class they both think. So different from the world they grew up in and still live in at the Abbey, where every day is filled with the demands of working and the impact of the eight-hour day and the forty-hour working week of the factories has never really touched their lives in service. They have had so little time for any free recreation in their long lives.

In amongst reading through sections of Thomson's _Summer_ poem, they rested and dozed against each other's supporting shoulders in their first-class cabin compartment on the train up from London. However, Charles and Elsie both still feel lethargic from the various emotional and physical demands of being a newly-wed couple. As a bit of a lark, and certainly, with no thoughts that such things will really have much of a restorative impact upon their current state of blissfully sore muscles and other bodily strains, they decide to go and taste the town's famed mineral springs water from the spa rooms on the foreshore.

The water is blood warm and sulphurous and they barely manage to swallow a mouthful each whilst maintaining straight faces. In fact, the sneers on their faces as the disgusting flavour and smell fully hits them is decidedly reminiscent of the squashed features of the _Punch and Judy_ puppets that are putting on a show not far away on the promenade. Finally managing to straighten their faces without bursting into ridiculous laughter and spluttering the foul liquid out at one another in the middle of the elegant spa tearooms, they silently communicate that perhaps a decent cup of tea and some scones with jam and cream would have a far greater impact upon their mutual wellbeing and energy levels.

oOOo

Sufficiently restored, they wander closely arm-in-arm for the remainder of the afternoon along the seaside esplanade, chatting lightly and agreeing that they will not fully brave the sands and waters until tomorrow when they will have a whole day to spend picnicking and paddling ad reading together in the sunshine on the quieter northern cove beach.

As the day begins to fade, they wander out onto the western pier, taking care not to hinder the movements of the fishermen who are preparing to ship out for the evening's catch. They look back at the splendour of the Grand Hotel they are staying in and then up to Scarborough Castle in ruins on top of the bluff. It is a lovely town, and quite an impressive site to see in gradually deepening silhouette as the sun sinks behind it all in the west. But Charles and Elsie agree that they cannot imagine ever living right by the seaside the way that Elsie's sister and her husband have for all of these years. However, they do enjoy the novelty of visiting the coast. They watch the boats shipping out and listen as the snatches of shouts of surly boatmen intermingle strangely with the squeals and laughter from children running up and down the sand to avoid the cool waves of the tide as it rolls further and further up the shore at the end of the day. All of it puts them in mind of the bounty the fishermen will bring in and what the two of them may do for their evening meal. Charles, who has not really been to the seaside very often at all across his long lifetime, not really since he played a few seaside towns in his youth touring the Halls, suggests that they try a different type of seaside delicacy.

"How about we try some whelks, Elsie. I've not ever had them before."

"Ugh," she visibly shudders. "Are you sure, Charles? They are no _h_ favourite of mine, even in Lytham, and I would wager there is no more a Mrs Patmore in Scarborough to cook them very well than there is at my sisters on the west coast!"

"Oh, come on, Els, you have me curious now. I want to try them."

"Well, all right," she laughs lightly at his boyish enthusiasm to enjoy all the seaside has to offer them, "but don't say I didn't warn you!"

Having purchased the warm stewy mess, Charles and Elsie decide to venture down onto the sand beside the solid fishing pier to sit with their backs to the sea wall on Charles' spread-out suit jacket.

"Well," Charles says, taking a deep breath and looking at his purchase with quite some trepidation now that he has them all up close. They smell fresh like the sea, and vinegary, but there is something a little disconcerting about the circular brownish tinged lumpy _things_ he is proposing to eat _. "_ Who should go first, Elsie?"

"I don't even want ONE of them, Charles!... But, …I will try it just so that you are not completely alone in this particular trial of life! How about we both go on the count of three?"

Having both managed to capture on their wooden skewers a curled-up lump of ugliness that may once have been a fruit of the sea, they both swallow hard to gird themselves.

"Well." Charles counts them in, "One …two… three."

Bravely they take the little morsels in their mouths and immediately turn to one another with looks of utter disgust and nausea on their faces as the slippery gels release a terribly salty brine onto their tongues and their teeth fail to bite through the flesh of the whelks that have all the consistency of an Indian rubber ball. Before both of them burst into fits of laughter at the look on the other's face, they both gulp and swallow their dubious prize in one go.

"Urrgh!" they cry in unison.

"That was the _most_ disgusting thing that has ever passed over my palate!"

"Well, I did try to warn you, Charles!" Elsie giggles at him heartily.

"Urk! I need something to wash my mouth out with," he grouses with a look of pure distaste on his face.

"How about we go back for some more refreshing spa waters!" Elsie continues cackling at Charles looking so pained and in desperate need to spit the residue of whelk broth onto the sands. She has never seen Mr Carson even motion towards spitting in public. She doubts he ever has ever done more than discreetly spit wines at a tasting shared with his Lordship, or his daily toothpaste anywhere in his entire life!

"That would probably equate to being the worst matching of food with a beverage on the entire planet, Els. Urgh!"

Taking pity on him, she offers him some of the lemonade she was wise enough to buy from a neighbouring stand when Charles was intent on buying the worst that seaside resorts have to offer in summertime snacks.

Once Charles has washed the brine away with the bittersweet of the lemonade. He catches properly the sight of Elsie's broad smile and bright eyes beneath her straw hat- some of her hair wisping out of its styling with the early evening sea breeze and she looks as young and carefree and pretty as that day at Brighton when everything shifted for the better beneath Charles' feet. He bends his head to kiss her firmly- just as he wished he had been brave enough to do that day three years ago- when she stopped his heart in his throat and held him captive with the hope and love he saw shining in her eyes for him.

As they break apart, Elsie is a little breathless and wide–eyed.

"That was rather forward of you, Mr Carson."

Charles still feels a little taken aback himself, whenever he feels and acts upon his overwhelming desire to kiss his new wife, especially when they are in public. He speaks low and close to her face.

"I..I..wish I could have done that … on the beach that day at Brighton, Mrs Hughes…so very much. You looked just like you did that day right then…and I … I just couldn't stop myself... I am sorry if I embarrassed you."

"Well, I was hardly complaining, Charles! In fact, I do not mind if you should like to do it again," she smiles sweetly up at him, "since we seem to be out of sight of any people who might care. But, …" she looks down and strokes his arm seductively, and quite incongruously so, given her next words to him, "…but perhaps you should like to dispose of those watery horrors before I am wearing a particularly strident brand of new perfume."

"It seems that I have married a very wise woman indeed. No more whelks and spa waters for me. I have learnt my lesson."

"Indeed. A man should always heed his wife's advice. What are we going to do with these monstrosities?"

Charles looks like a little cheeky rascal all of a sudden as he places the tub between them on a rock. He leans over and briefly captures Elsie's mouth in a smiling little kiss, with plans in mind for a more thorough return to her lips after he enjoys a bit of twilight sport with his new rubber play toys. With a twinkle in his eyes, Charles wedges another whelk on his thick wooden eating skewer and uses it as a miniature catapult to fling the whelk as far away from himself as he can across the sand.

"Charles!" Elsie exclaims, "you are worse than a little school boy! Can I not take you anywhere? I have never known you to play with your food!"

"Oh, I think one would be hard pressed to classify these little miscreations as _food_ , Love. Besides which, we are getting on and I believe my very wise _waife_ -o-mine once said that we can afford to live a little. Here Elsie, see if you can get yours further than mine and he hands her a fully whelk-loaded skewer. Elsie just giggles. _My Cheeky Charles._ And she pecks him on the chubby smiling cheek before she bites her bottom lip and concentrates on besting Charles' first attempt, feeling rather silly and hoping no one sees her acting in such and unladylike manner.

"Ah-ha! The Germans would have been no match for you, Mrs Hughes. If only the war office new of such a lethal weapon to defend the shores of fair Scarborough with!" Charles announces outlandishly.

They giggle along together as they reload for the continued bombardment of Scarborough's fair sands with the vilest weapon of war known to man or mouth.

"Count of three again. Ready? One… two… three! Oh! You beat me again! You are quite the sportswoman it would appear, Mrs Carson. That's two: one in your favour now, I believe."

"You are just so _h_ silly, Charles. How is it you get me doing such undignified things?" she asks as they release another miniature volley of aquatic globules into the air, laughing aloud again at their varied successes.

"That's three: one. Oh dear, Carson of Yorkshire has some work on his hands to catch up now!" he commentates jovially as he reloads their skewers. "And you do these things with me because… you are _fun_ , Elsie-love." And he smiles widely at her. "And we probably should both have had a lot more fun when we were children. Ready? One…two…three! Oooh… I believe that round went to me. That's three: two" he gleefully declares as some seagulls start noticing the actions near the sea wall and swoop in to claim some easy supper from the sand. "We should have much more childish fun in our retirement years don't you agree, Els?"

"Well, I would prefer we don't always end up smelling like fish brine at the end of it- but yes… why, indeed, not?

"One… two…. three- Launch!" Charles shouts. "Wah-hey! Look at that! Does that count, Els? Mine got caught in mid-air by a member of the Ripon 76th Home Defense Bomber Squadron. Hmmm… If only these fellows were recruited before the Germans bombed up the poor old castle on the hill. So! Fair Lady Carson, who wins that latest joust?"

"I shall award that round to the good, Sir Carson d'Clicky-Knees," Elsie proclaims without missing a beat.

Charles laughs happily at her new name for him. "Three-a-piece it is then. Let's both try to get them caught this time. Ready? One… two… three! Bombs away!"

"Yes!" They shout triumphantly as both of their whelks are captured by gulls before they hit the turf. Charles is quite expansive in his gestures now, waving his skewer around in celebration. And as he looks towards Elsie's shining face he finds that he desperately needs to kiss her again. So, he tosses the remaining whelks willy-nilly from their tub out onto the sand and grasps Elsie into his arms to kiss her quite thoroughly as the gulls squawk and flutter in a flurry of white all around them.

As they break apart Elsie complains, "Charles, I was enjoying that!"

"Oh! And my kisses aren't more fun than launching whelks into the welkin in fair Scarborough?" He looks at her with an exaggeratedly hurt face, complete with drooping puppy dog eyes.

"I meant the kisses – silly!" she laughs out as she leans in to kiss him again. "And,…well… I do suppose you still taste a little bit like a whelk—a sort of sweet and salty, lemonade-y one, so, all is not lost!" she ribs him and then leans up to kiss him once again. "Hmmm," she sighs dreamily into his smiling lips. "Let's go find a place to wash our hands, Charles… then why don't we go buy some fish and Chips for dinner to eat on the pier… most seaside towns can't go too far wrong with those. And she stands before him and offers her hand to help him up- but then as she sees Charles looking so relaxed and happy and bright eyed on the beach, with his hair fluttering in the breeze all around his smooth clear brow it just stops her short. He looks young and carefree. She leans down towards him, "You are not such a stodgy old bean after all, are you? You really are such fun, my Cheeky Charles." She smiles broadly at him and then kisses him firmly. "Hmm… I love you so."

Charles grins like a bright, happy young fool up into her face."

"And the happiest and luckiest of men I am for it, Elsie-love. Not that I ever really needed reminding!" And he takes her hand to steady his rise and then escorts her back up to the esplanade to hunt down a dinner far worthier of his fair Lady Carson.

oOOo

 **CECECECECE**

 **A/N:** **The 76** **th** **Ripon Home Defence Air Squadron did exist on a base not far from the fictional Downton Abbey- and from what I can gather- they could do little in time to stop the German's bombing Scarborough from the air and leaving the castle in further ruins in WW1.**


	39. Chapter 39- Poet Lovers

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 39- Poet Lovers**

Mid- Afternoon. Wednesday 2nd June, 1926

Scarborough, Yorkshire. Northern Cove Beach

"Charles! I just realised something!"

"What's that, Love," he replies lazily from his prone position on their picnic rug under their secluded hired beach shade, his large hand trailing slowly through the warm yellow granules, lifting and letting drift small flurries of the origins of cut glass crystal through his fingers and making fine powdered castles in the sand.

"Damon was a lech!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think he was a man of infinite taste and growing thoughtful wisdom."

"And how do you figure that?" and much more quietly, because she has just realised her sudden outburst about the lines she has just been reading ahead with silently from Thomson's _Summer_ poem could lead to a conversation far better conducted in a more private space, so she almost whispers near his ear from where she lies propped up on her elbow next to him, "And keep in mind that a man who openly ogles his wife bathing whilst leaning, semi-clad in doorways of luxury hotel suites needs to have a _very_ convincing argument to adequately refute the idea that _this_ young man is nothing more than a Peeping Tom!"* And she gives him one of those bright-eyed and impish smiles around her tooth-gripped bottom lip as she finishes.

Charles whole body shimmers with a sense of forbidden erotic delight when his Elsie speaks so into his ear… and in public! Such sweet memories she conjures up for him when she sparks her mind up against his. Thankfully, the Northern Cove at Scarborough this fine clear mid-week day is not nearly as busy as the Southern Cove was this morning when they set out for their day on the beach, so he feels free to state his case for Damon within this private space in public they have formed for themselves once more. He turns onto his side to mirror her position, disturbing the peace of the various little coloured urchin shells Elsie had fossicked for and collected earlier as they paddled in the shallows, and which, for some unknown reason, she had decided would look grand as embellished buttons on his shirtfront as he lay his legs out in the sun to dry his rolled trouser bottoms. He leans in to kiss and release that little plump and smooth delight he so adores with his own salt-tinged lips. _God! How I love kissing this woman._ He feels a renewed fire for all of her delicate flesh kindling down low in his spine.

He states, somewhat huskily as he draws back from her face, "Well, perhaps you ought to read the passages aloud so that I may better state my case, Mrs Carson."

"Well, all right." And she rolls back onto the pillow of her folded cardigan, one arm stretched up and tucked beneath the back of her head as she holds the pocket-sized tome above her eyes. Charles takes to gently brushing her fly-away strands of hair behind the shell of her ear as she sweeps him up with her lilting tones into the dream of one of his favourite sections of the poem.

oOOo

" _Cheered by the milder beam, the sprightly youth_

 _Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth_

 _A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands_

 _Gazing the inverted landscape, half afraid_

 _To meditate the blue profound below;_

 _Then plunges headlong down the circling flood._

 _His ebon tresses and his rosy cheek_

 _Instant emerge; and through the flexile wave,_

 _At each short breathing by his lip repelled,_

 _With arms and legs according well, he makes,_

 _As humour leads, an easy-winding path;_

 _While from his polished sides a dewy light_

 _Effuses on the pleased spectators round."_

 _oOOo_

"Well there is nought wrong in any of that, Els. He is but a slip of a lad, running along at the end of a day to have a dip in a little pool. I did as much myself when I still worked the stables." Elsie smiles at him, trying to imagine a scantily clad, tall, wiry, and dark-haired Charles Carson dashing off for a skinny-dip in a stream. She would wager he had not grown into his nose or eyebrows quite so well at that young age! And the vision makes her smile. "And he is not out trying to hunt down where the ladies may be bathing. I see him as an innocent- still a youth."

"Hmm.. I'll grant you that. It is a pleasant enough vision. What about the rest of that bit though?"

Elsie plonks the book onto her tummy and turns her face to Charles', awaiting his further parsing of the text. She reaches to stroke his errant curl back from his forehead and remembers back to when she first met Charles and the signs of all of this silvery delight were only just starting to lightly pepper about his temples within all of his own thick ebon tresses. _Such lovely hair he still has- and rosy cheeks today, as well!_

"Well, that last line- it suggests that maybe he is with some other young lads, at least I think so, but maybe that is just my youthful memories more than it his reality. No matter. But he is different, Damon, for he is the only one we know of who pauses to consider before diving headlong into the pool. He is cautious. Thoughtful." Elsie, smiles at her man as the description of him becomes more robust by the moment. "But he is a youth on the cusp. And… and when he surfaces…- _through the flexile wave_ \- he is the one transformed, Els. And so he moves off to leave all their young follies all behind him- to move out into the world so to speak. And… he is ready for it all- he is strong and vigorous- his arms and legs are- what is it again?"

Elsie lifts the book to find the line again. " 'According well', Love…. And with 'polished dewy sides', no less!" she smiles broadly at him. "Quite the _rakish_ Peeping Tom is young Damon, I'll be bound!"

Charles just lifts a disbelieving eyebrow at this current flippancy of Elsie's and then breaks into a beauteous smile at her, knowing exactly what she is really thinking about him, and secure in the knowledge that she really does want to hear him too- hear all of his musings. _All of it_. _This is what I have dreamed of,_ he thinks blissfully as he rests his heavy palm on her belly where the book had been so that he may feel the slight vibration of her singing voice play through his fingertips.

"But that's it though… he has grown into himself and he can follow where his humour leads and the path is easy and clear for him. He is striking out on his own, Els. Now, what comes next?"

 _oOOo_

" _Close in the covert of an hazel copse,_

 _Where, winded into pleasing solitudes,_

 _Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat_

 _Pensive, and pierced with love's delightful pangs._

 _There to the stream that down the distant rocks_

 _Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that played_

 _Among the bending willows, falsely he_

 _Of Musidora's cruelty complained."_

 _oOOo_

"So, Damon was there at this quite stream or brook first, wouldn't you say- and when the ladies come along later what is he to do?"

"Well, he is to turn and head back the other way, Charles!"

"But I think as you read you will find he does at least try to find a way to slip away unnoticed, well… eventually. But still, here is our thoughtful young man, don't you think, Els? He has left behind his silly friends and is taking the time to sit and ponder his love for Musidora."

"But then why is he complaining of her cruelty?"

"Well, he has only _just_ started leaving his youthful friends behind him, and perhaps he is still confused, for doesn't the next section tell of how Musidora has not fully returned his favour yet?"

"Let's see… so she… ah …here we are: "

oOOo

" _The brook ran babbling by; and sighing weak,_

 _The breeze among the bending willows play'd:_

 _When Sacharissa to the cool retreat,_

 _With Amoret, and Musidora stole."_

 _oOOo_

"Ah! Now that's the bit, you see, that shows that Damon _was_ there in the stream first, and Musidora and her two friends arrive, so it is not as if Damon purposely went out of his way to spy on naked bathing beauties, Elsie." Charles is rather pleased he has been vindicated by the text again.

"Are you serious, Charles? So that excuses him staying there to ogle longer?"

"Well…" Charles falters a little, "perhaps not. But…but maybe he didn't want to make a scene- if he were to be noticed as he left. Perhaps he could not manage it discreetly without embarrassing the ladies further."

"And that is your grand theory?" she asks sceptically. "Very convenient, I must say!"

"Well, I will stick to it for now. Read on Mrs Hughes. Musidora knows more than she is letting on I would wager."

"Well, all right."

oOOo

" _She felt his flame; but deep within her breast,"_

 _oOOo_

"See?!"

"Shush, Charles."

oOOo

" _In bashful coyness or in maiden pride,_

 _The soft return concealed; save when it stole_

 _In side-long glances from her downcast eye,_

 _Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs._

 _Touched by the scene, no stranger to his vows,_

 _He framed a melting lay to try her heart;_

 _And, if an infant passion struggled there,_

 _To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain!"_

 _oOOo_

"Well? What did I say?" Charles challenges her. "She knows what she feels for him, but Damon is frustrated and unsure of her love because she conceals too much."

"I suppose that is possible- that might explain his pensive musings and all. But it does not convince me that she knows he is there looking at her in secret right now. And from memory the end of the sections bears me out."

"Hmmm… I guess you are right there. Still, Musidora is aware of her charms, surely that is clear."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Elsie reads on, enjoying this back and forth discussion and seeing the poem through Charles' different eyes.

oOOo

 _"A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate_

 _Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine!_

 _For, lo! conducted by the laughing Loves,_

 _This cool retreat his Musidora sought:_

 _Warm in her cheek the sultry season glowed;_

 _And, robed in loose array, she came to bathe_

 _Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream."_

 _oOOo_

"You see? Charles is genuinely warming to his take on the topic now, "… and granted, she may not _really_ know he is there hiding, perhaps it is just the memory of his gaze that moves her at the moment, but she is certainly leaving _her_ friends behind her too to seek a quieter place to bathe- and perhaps to think on her Damon for a while too. What do you think?"

"Hmm… I guess that is possible. But then that also says that Damon is taking this chance to ogle because… What? Now the Gods have thrown it all in his lap so it is perfectly fine for him to do then what he wilt?"

"Well, yes… I guess that does sound like he is taking his chance while he can, but who can blame him- what with all those fervent limbs flailing about, hmm?" and he grins a silly grin at Elsie, knowing his argument is rather slim in this place.

Elsie shakes her head incredulously at him and smiles anyway, still not fully convinced by any of this, but she finds Charles' take on this story of young love ready to be explored really rather sweet and compelling.

She reads on.

oOOo

" _What shall he do? In sweet confusion lost,_

 _'Twas then, beneath a secret waving shade_

 _Where, winded into lovely solitudes,_

 _Runs out the rambling dale, that Damon sat,_

 _Thoughtful and fixed in philosophic muse._

 _And dubious flutterings, he a while remained._

 _A pure ingenuous elegance of soul,_

 _A delicate refinement, known to few,_

 _Perplexed his breast and urged him to retire:"_

 _oOOo_

"There! Damon is not such a bad egg, he is a thoughtful young man of delicate refinement who knows what he must do- nothing lecherous in his intent whatsoever, I don't think."

"Ah!- but he _doesn't_ retire from the scene, though, does he, Charles?. This is where your logic will fail you."

"Oh really, Elsie! What makes you think logic is at all what is driving young Damon here now? Allow me to read to you of a young man in dire conflict with his dearest held philosophies. I pity him….well…sort of." He grins puckishly at her, "I do love this next section, though."

"Well, there is no surprise, now I know the man of passion that you truly are, Charles! Perhaps you _should_ read it from here, though – it does get rather racy from now on."

Elsie hands him the little volume and makes herself comfortable on his out-stretched arm. Charles takes up where Elsie left off- his deep voice, kept low and seductively private near Elsie's face, as if they too are the only two people about for many miles and they too are sharing secret delights in their own private hidden glade. He sounds almost furtive as he begins and he grins rakishly at Elsie, for he knows the next passages will only remind him of his own delightful muse, bathing quietly in the morning light, looking just like that Gainsborough painting of Musidora hanging in the Tate Gallery.

oOOo

" _But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say,_

 _Say, ye severest, what would_ _you_ _have done?_

 _oOOo_

Charles emphasises this last line while pointedly glaring at Elsie and she shucks him on the arm for being just a bit of a smarmy know-it-all.

"Now, here is what he is up against, Elsie. The power of his love and then this next. This would break a greater man than our young Damon to be sure."

"Hmm… it is a decidedly _vivid_ text, I'll grant you." It is the most demure way Elsie can find to describe the next part of the poem, but she smiles longingly up at Charles' jawline from her pillow on his large bicep, ardently waiting to hear these lines read to her by that voice she so adores. Charles turns onto his back to take up the reading properly and speaks in his most private, sensuous and seductive tones.

"Then allow me to read these lines with _only_ you in mind, my sweetest love." And he turns his head briefly once more to kiss her softly on the lips. Elsie is completely enamoured and stares up at the movement to his gleaming dark eyes as they slide across the page.

oOOo

 _"Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever blest_

 _Arcadian stream, with timid eye around_

 _The banks surveying, stripped her beauteous limbs_

 _To taste the lucid coolness of the flood._

 _Ah! then, not Paris on the piny top_

 _Of Ida panted stronger, when aside_

 _The rival goddesses the veil divine_

 _Cast unconfined, and gave him all their charms,_

 _Than, Damon, thou; as from the snowy leg_

 _And slender foot the inverted silk she drew;_

 _As the soft touch dissolved the virgin zone;_

 _And, through the parting robe, the alternate breast,_

 _With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze_

 _In full luxuriance rose._"_

 _oOOo_

Elsie actually feels a desperate need to fan her own face from the heat surrounding them when Charles stops reading momentarily and looks over to Elsie- his desire diving deep into her own eyes.

"Methinks Damon is getting a little hot and bothered there, Charles." Her voice is smoky with desire for her man's rumbling voice and heartfelt words of adoration that she knows he has read as thus for her alone.

"I well know his predicament, Elsie-Love" Charles gravels out in a rumbling purr of want for her.

Elsie pointedly clears her throat as the look in Charles' eye intensifies and she realises that he may actually lose all sense of decorum with her in public, and quite as much as they are claiming, rightly or wrongly, that poor Damon does in the poem.

"Perhaps you should just read on, Mr Carson… I believe my point is that Damon should certainly not be lingering there _at all_ now."

"As you wish." Charles says most reluctantly and finds he has to clear his throat before he can read on.

oOOo

 _"_But, desperate youth,_

 _How durst thou risk the soul-distracting view_

 _As from her naked limbs of glowing white,_

 _Harmonious swelled by nature's finest hand,_

 _In folds loose-floating fell the fainter lawn,_

 _And fair exposed she stood, shrunk from herself,_

 _With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze_

 _Alarmed, and starting like the fearful fawn?"_

 _oOOo_

Elsie actually has to shake her head to come back to herself a little, but manages to maintain her side of the argument. "Ah-ha! – that's the line Charles- you see, she doesn't know he has been there all this time- she is startled and he should have let her be."

Charles turns back to his side to face Elsie and keeps his voice seductively low. "And I still maintain that never a more difficult task will face a man than seeing his one true love so beautifully and innocently displayed before him… and I have _very…very_ personal and quite exquisite memories of my own to draw upon now in order to back up that particular assertion."

 _Perhaps we should have read this section in the hotel room,_ Elsie thinks in a flash, but it slips her mind and flies into bright oblivion as Charles captures her lips in such a deep and sultry kiss that it actually takes her breath away. And then all her mind can hold onto in that moment is the single blinding truth- _I love him!_

As Charles reluctantly draws back from her he breathes lustfully across her face. "Listen to this, my very own Musidora," he rumbles out low to her. It serves only to prove my point."

Elsie is fast losing any mind to argue _anything_ right now. _Just kiss me like that again, Charles._ It is her only clear thought right now as she drifts into his voice one more.

oOOo

" _Then to the flood she rushed: the parted flood_

 _Its lovely guest with closing waves received;_

 _And every beauty softening, every grace_

 _Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed-_

 _As shines the lily through the crystal mild,_

 _Or as the rose amid the morning dew,_

 _Fresh from Aurora's hand, more sweetly glows._

 _While thus she wantoned, now beneath the wave_

 _But ill-concealed, and now with streaming locks,_

 _That half-embraced her in a humid veil,_

 _Rising again, the latent Damon drew_

 _Such maddening draughts of love and beauty to the soul_

 _As for a while o'erwhelmed his raptured thought_

 _With luxury too daring. _"_

 _oOOo_

Charles sounds of the softest smoothest steel to her and his eyes do not falter from her own.

"How could he possibly turn away from such beauty, Elsie-love?" And he leans in again to explore Elsie's mouth quite thoroughly with his loving, searching lips. He groans longingly into her. Somewhere in his love-bleared mind, he thinks to draw his suit jacket over his hips lest his current state of heady arousal _should_ indeed embarrass his own lady hiding beneath this summer shade. Part of him cannot believe he is acting this way in public, but he finds he just cannot stop kissing his beautiful wife this way… because he really just does not ever want to stop… _It is everything! Everything wonderful!_ Especially with Elsie's own lips urging him forward wanting him and somehow silently asking him for more. _God! How I love her!_

Eventually, they must both pause to allow fresh air to finally re-enter their lungs and they look at each other with wide-eyed wonder over the depths of the passions they feel for one another.

Elsie is the first to break their breathless silence when her honey thick brogue manages to roll out a quip she would never have expected to use with Mr Carson in order to bring him to behave with a greater sense of propriety. "Well,…" she purrs out, "it seems my man of the stage truly knows how to live and breathe a part. Phew! My, my! You have … gotten yourself into quite the ' _Damonic_ ' state there, Mr Carson." And she tries to stop her face breaking into a sunny and faux malicious smile.

"Grrmmmm…" he rumbles out lustfully, "you wicked woman, you. Is it any wonder I feel somewhat possessed around you, my delightful Musidora," he breathes into her ear, "whom, I will still argue, well knows the power of her charms with the poor conflicted Damon." But he does take the hint that maybe he should try to cool off a little in their current situation and he breathes out a long relieving breath as he remembers that, if young Damon could manage to cool his passions and not embarrass his lady-fair, then so too can old Carson. He clears his throat heavily before he speaks again. "Perhaps I should just read on, Mrs Carson."

"If you think it wise, please do." And she captures her own lip in an impish lustful grin that makes Charles grown aloud again at seeing. He pointedly turns his eyes back to the page and releases one more heady breath as he rests their little book on Elsie's upper arm as they continue to lie on their sides, better shielding Charles' current bodily predicament from any potential passers-by.

oOOo

" _But_ _Musidora_ _fixing in his heart,_

 _Inform'd, and humaniz'd him into man._

 _And Checked, at last,_

 _By love's respectful modesty, he deemed_

 _The theft profane, if aught profane to love_

 _Can e'er be deemed, and, struggling from the shade,_

 _With headlong hurry fled:"_

 _oOOo_

"You see?" Charles speaks low, his voice still rasping slightly with his desire for Elsie. Lovingly he looks to her face, his true point about to be made, "He is not some youth leering at a young maiden when it is not his right. He is transformed through the depth of his love that is fixed upon this one true woman, and she alone has made him into a man, and _then_ he behaves as any good man should. Listen."

oOOo

 _"With headlong hurry fled: but first these lines,_

 _Traced by his ready pencil, on the bank_

 _With trembling hand he threw-'Bathe on, my fair,_

 _Yet unbeheld save by the sacred eye_

 _Of faithful love: I go to guard thy haunt;_

 _To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot_

 _And each licentious eye."_

 _oOOo_

"You see, Els, he is there but to protect her honour."

"Sweet man," she whispers out, knowing that Charles sees himself thus transformed by her and he has indeed pledged her no less than Damon did his Musidora- Charles, her very own gentleman husband- _Oh! But in the most erotic manner!_ "I will grant you all of that as the truth. However," she manages to go on, unable to capitulate entirely on her own point, even though her heart is filled to bursting for her man right now, "I will still maintain that Musidora did not know of her charms, or at least did not feel confident enough of them until she could truly be sure of _him_ first and his respect for her and his actual intentions, and so he should still have left the glade sooner."

"Bah! But then where would they be? With no time to pen his note- she would never have known his true worth. And where is the romance in all of that? More a tragedy I would hazard. And, sadly, one I feel could all too easily have happened to us." Charles has slowed his speech markedly, "I well know the mistake that could have been." He pauses briefly and considers Elise very closely. "Here, Elsie, you read the last- and I ask that you think on how it mirrors in some ways our own particular pre-wedding predicaments."

Elsie looks somewhat perplexed at this charge but takes up the tome and reads of Musidora.

oOOo

 _With wild surprise,_

 _As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,_

 _A stupid moment motionless she stood:_

 _So stands the statue that enchants the world;_

 _So, bending, tries to veil the matchless boast,_

 _The mingled beauties of exulting Greece._

 _Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes_

 _Which blissful Eden knew not; and, arrayed_

 _In careless haste, the alarming paper snatched._

 _But, when her Damon's well-known hand she saw,_

 _Her terrors vanished, and a softer train_

 _Of mixed emotions, hard to be described,_

 _Her sudden bosom seized: shame void of guilt,_

 _The charming blush of innocence, esteem_

 _And admiration of her lover's flame,_

 _By modesty exalted, even a sense_

 _Of self-approving beauty stole across_

 _Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm_

 _Hushed by degrees the tumult of her soul;_

 _And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream_

 _Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen_

 _Of rural lovers this confession carved,_

 _Which soon her Damon kissed with weeping joy:_

 _'Dear youth! sole judge of what these verses mean,_

 _By fortune too much favoured, but by love,_

 _Alas! not favoured less, be still as now_

 _Discreet: the time may come you need not fly."_

 _oOOo_

Elsie finishes quietly.

"Well… it is true, I well know how important your ardent admiration has been to me, a chagair. So… what are you saying? …That perhaps you _should_ have written me some sort of love letter before we married Charles, and that it might have made all the difference to me? Is that what you think?"

He huphs out a short laugh at this. "Yes… well, … it certainly would have been a somewhat more romantic way to reassure you of your beauty and of my respect and regard for you… but also of my intentions and desires for a full marriage. And most certainly, I should have done _something_ rather than leaving it until you felt so unsure of yourself that you were compelled to use Mrs Patmore as our intermediary… or the indeed to invoke the fearsome Oliver Cromwell against me- of all people!- in order to get me to act!"

Elsie thuds her head lightly into his chest. "Oh, dear God, what an embarrassing pair of old boobies we are. I still worry that Mrs Patmore laughs herself to sleep at night because of my foolishness."

"I assure you I have worried many a-time about _myself_ over the exact same thing, Elsie-love," he chuckles out. "Lord, I don't think I have ever held such an uncomfortable conversation with anyone in my entire life!" He actually cannot stop laughing, for it seems too ridiculous for words looking back on it all now, and soon Elsie is joining in with him.

"Oh dear, I am very sorry it came to all of that Charles, for all three of us, really. But, well, I guess we are fortunate that Beryl has precious few outside of the two of us that she would tell such a story to. I do trust that she is discreet with the understaff at least, despite her coarse mannerisms at times."

"Hmm, I suppose you are right. But it was my own fault really, Els. I do truly wish that I had been brave enough beforehand- to tell you the sorts of truths that I now feel I can, and that I have been trying to show you these last days."

"Och, you have been making all things clear on that front now, and no mistake, a chagair," and she give him a loving and very appreciative peck on that little dip in his chin. "But still, why _did_ you not show me your regard more before we were married, Charles? I don't mean before you proposed, for I never expected that… but afterwards? I…I… felt the way … the way you shivered slightly that night you proposed… when…when I touched you… and you looked so… just so very lovely, my darling Charles, with all your heart shining so brightly in your eyes." Elsie is looking deep into his eyes now, that have misted up again at the sweet memory she is invoking. "And when I kissed the scar on your hand… I felt… I felt you hold your breath, and I knew, and I most certainly know it all again now, that we felt the same way… that same _energy_ we share… but… but then afterwards I thought maybe I had been mistaken and that I must have revolted you somehow with my forwardness, perhaps, and that you only shivered and held your breath because I appalled you somehow- that I was not what you wanted at all- at least not in _that_ way-… so...so I started to feel foolish…and then you seemed to run away from me… not even touching me at all, or calling me by my name in private. That is all I would have wanted, Charles- not out in the servants' hall if it embarrassed you, … but at least over our little sherries of an evening."

"Oh Elsie-love, I am so sorry… But if you only knew how conflicted I became every time you were anywhere near me… once I knew you had accepted me and wanted me too, and I had all of this marriage to look forward to… I was fit to be in … well,... quite the ' _Damonic'_ state, as you so aptly put it, every time you so much as brushed past me in the hall."

Elsie scoffs out loud and covers her mouth at this, which has actually broken out into the sunniest smile. "Really?!"

"Yes, _really_ , Elsie. Surely this week has shown just how desperately I desire you. The slightest touch before we were married was actually making me at risk of embarrassing myself in front of all and sundry, and especially in front of the downstairs staff, for we have much more cause to be near each other there. I would have lost any small respect I did still have with them, and no doubt with you at the time too. _That_ I am sure would have appalled you! So, I just couldn't risk that level of contact then… I… I just wanted you so very much, Elsie. I wanted you so completely. I _still_ want you that much- _all_ the time. And so I just had to do what Damon did- and keep my distance in order to do right by you. I am terribly sorry. I should have written, you are correct. It would have served us both well it would seem.

"Oh, you dear man. I never realised I could have such an effect on _any_ man! Not before this week away with you. But why don't you tell me now then, Charles- you want to court me still, so tell me what you would have written in that letter before we married."

"If I did, would it prevent you from invoking the spectre of Cromwell over me ever again?"

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary ever again, Charles," she laughs out at her own silliness. "And I was not trying to set him onto you, as it were, I was just quoting him in reference to me."

"Really? For I fear I have never _fully_ fathomed what you were even saying that night when I first kissed you. So much of it was a blur. I could only hear that you were wanting to pull out of everything we were planning and my heart just stopped somewhere up in my ears and I only heard Oliver Cromwell's name through all of that fog of dread and…. and I thought you were about to lay waste to me as if I were some sort an Irish monastery and Cromwell was on the march!" Charles' thoughts and feelings and memories are tumbling out of him quite rapidly now. "I was terrified that I was losing you forever- just so scared, Elsie-love. I didn't think I would ever have to live through the pain of a broken heart ever again… and I _never_ wanted that from you, most assuredly- _not_ with you… And, really… I … I just needed you to _stop_ talking, right then and there, for I just couldn't bear it… I couldn't… and … and all I could think to do was to finally kiss you… so that I might at least have that …that one memory to keep me alive… just that once … before I left _us_ all behind me… and I just… because I couldn't find the words…. So I just had to kiss you- I had to- like I had been wanting to do for so very long. But… even _then_ I was afraid… desperately afraid that I would not be able to stop once I had started and that I would only offend you like Damon felt… and I was right because I just didn't want to stop kissing you that night…Your lips…so…"

"Warts and all," she states clearly as a means to try and stop Charles barrelling in any further through his confused distress.

"But … but I had to… I had to stop myself… so I just kissed your forehead to stop myself from… I had to stop… W- What?"

"Warts and all, Charles. That is all I said… that you could have me just as I am. That I would take the risk, with you… and as inelegant a thing as it was to say… I guess at least it _did_ finally stop you running away from me again."

"Why ever would you say that about yourself!" Charles laughs out loud, finally hearing for the first time what had swum around his head in a whirlpool of blind and frightening, but also delightful and ultimately comforting sensations from that night. And as if he is rising from the flexile waves of their own ever-growing love, Charles looks at his beautiful Elsie with fresh eyes once more, disbelief still in his heart that they somehow blundered their way through all of their foolishness and transformed themselves into something new together- to make it safely into this wonderful private space they have together. Much more surreptitiously he continues, "I can assure you, Mrs Carson, that far from any warts, there is nary a spot on you…and I _have_ made several, quite thorough investigations… but I am always willing to confirm this assertion again- anytime you should need some further reassurance." And he looks at her, mightily pleased with his various recent explorations and with this particular turn of phrase. Elsie shivers with the energy of their lust-filled memories. And equally delighted, Charles cannot help but tell her, and most sincerely, "That said, M'Lady, you have actually been laying waste to me like Cromwell on a rampage ever since."

"Ha! Oh, most decidedly _not_ like that I would hope, Charles!" she laughs back and kisses him firmly on the lips. "Let's leave Cromwell out of this marriage from now on, shall we?" and they kiss each other and do not even think to ever stop until they are both quite breathless again.

"No arguments about that on this front I think you will find, my delightful Musidora," Charles pants out against Elsie's cheek as he continues to hold her tightly. "Hmmm… My muse," he murmurs into Elsie's neck as he breathes in the delight of her fresh and sweet and musky-salty skin. "Still, Elsie-love, I am very sorry you doubted me so much that you somehow found a way to think it was all because you were in some way lacking. You are absolutely everything I could ever want or need, pretty Elspeth. You are all I have dreamed of. _This_ is everything I have dreamed of…and, really, so very much more."

"A chagair," she whispers into his cheek. "Likewise, noble Sir. Hmmm… I love you…But I still maintain that you should continue your lovely courtship with me, Charles my darling. Tell me what you would have written to me so that we may have avoided that fearsome vision of Cromwell… or indeed our dear Mrs Patmore as a messenger of love between us when we came to our understanding?"

"I am not sure I would know what to say, Els. I don't think I even have the words."

"Oh, nonsense, Charles! Think of all the lovely things you have said to me these last days," then lowering her voice to a whisper once again, "my delightful and magical poet-lover." Elsie chews on her lips to contain the gleeful and lustfully knowing smile caused by all of her most vivid memories of their most recent days together. She finds her voice is very low and throaty as she continues. "The poets really _should_ have come to you and saved themselves a lot of time and worry, Mr Carson, I do mean that. You have a most lovely way with words and I adore hearing you love me with your voice… But, … I especially love that it is only ever for me, my Charles." Elsie feels her face flush and a burning heat and stringing tight energy pulls across her middle at the thought of her man's fire for her. "Tell me what you would have said to me when we were betrothed, young Damon."

Charles always feels so much more confident when he knows he has all of Elsie's approval, so he takes a risk now with her as well. "I have a much better idea Elsie-love… I think if I were not so feint-of-heart at the time, I would have actually written to you. And if you give me some time… I will write to you again… and then I will read it aloud to you if you would like. How does that sound?"

"It sounds absolutely lovely, a chagair. In fact," Elsie says brightly as she sits up quickly and turns towards her handbag. "Here. Why don't you start on it now?" and she fossicks about for a pencil and her little notebook.

"Oh, but I couldn't, Els. Not with you here watching me. I would feel foolish."

Elsie looks at him incredulously, then leans in to speak very privately into his ear. "Charles, have you forgotten how much beautiful poetry you have formed over my body this week alone… and _just_ what it does to me. You must surely be quite a rarity amongst men to even manage that much focus… So, I have no doubt that you can indeed find the words, a chagair. I want you to. I want to hear you."

Charles coughs to clear his lust-thickened voice. "Well, perhaps it is more that I am afraid that I will be _too_ distracted by my visions of such things if you were to be so near me as I write."

"Well then, I shall wander off for a little and fossick about in the sands… and you can start to write and tell me what was in your heart back then when we were both too scared to tell each other the truth. How does that sound?"

Charles just smiles up at his Mrs Hughes, back to finding solutions for all their little woes.

"That should do nicely, Mrs Carson. However, I think you will find it will be exactly what is in my heart today, for my feelings have not changed. In fact, they have only grown and deepened, I find."

"Sweet man." And she gives him a little peck on the chin and then takes his bowler hat in hand so that she may collect various treasures into it out along the sands. "Do you have any requests of me then?"

"Merely to see you smile like that again." And then he intones even lower, "And perhaps that I may take you back to our room later and never have to stop kissing you tonight. Does that sound manageable?" And he grins up at her with that expectant and rascally smile she absolutely adores.

"I think we can easily come to an agreement on that front, Mr Carson." And she rises without another word or touch, but pointedly sways her hips just a little more than is entirely necessary for her to keep balanced in the sand as she makes her way out into the bright sunshine of the late afternoon.

oOOo

Upon her return, Charles quickly tears the pages he has been working on from the back of her notebook and tucks them in an almost embarrassed fashion deep into his trouser pocket. Elsie just snuffs bemusedly at him and lets it be. She knows that he will tell her his heart when he is good and ready. She is sure now that her poet-lover's words will be well worth the wait.

"Look what I have found, Charles," she states excitedly, looking like a smiling young girl as she kneels down upon their rug and tips her latest finds out of Charle's bowler hat and onto their rug.

Together they start sifting through her bounty of delicate sea treasures. They quietly fall into sorting them into rows and piles, just enjoying the way each of them approaches the task somewhat differently, whether sorting by colour first, or species, shape or size. Some of the shells and little stones are really quite lovely.

"Why don't you choose out a favourite, Charles-love. Make it a souvenir of our special trip to the seaside, hmm?"

Charles is immediately drawn to a rather large and deep scallop shell. It is the underside of one, not the more commonly noted flat fan-shaped ones that are easily found on the beach. It is bleached almost white from the sun, but is shiny and not yet brittle from weathering. It looks clean and clear to him.

"Why that one Charles."

"Hmm? Oh… I will tell you later," and he just smiles at her. Elsie thinks she detects something deep and warm and knowing in his eyes, and it makes her feel even more eager for his explanation "What about you Elsie? Which one are you going to take home with you?"

"Close your eyes, I'm not going to tell you until later, either. Then we can set these others out in the sand. I don't think I need to take the lot home. But I do like finding them all the same."

"Indeed."

"Now close your eyes."

Charles willingly obliges, enjoying Elsie's sweet young playfulness. She secretes her little keepsake shell into her purse. When she is done Elsie puts their few remaining luncheon items and plates back into their picnic basket and smiles as she sees what Charles has started to do with their shell collection. Shuffling next to him, he matches her wide sea-swept smile with one of his special close-lipped ones that squints up his cheeks in that special way she loves and reaches right into his gleaming eyes. She leans over to give him a peck on the cheek and then concentrates on helping him finish fashioning their two initials into a large interlinked cursive display upon the sand. He may not be ready to share his writing with her yet, but he really is a sweet young man at heart and her own heart blushes with fresh heat for him and sings brightly within her breast.

oOOo

Basket packed and ready to move off, Elsie asks again why Charles chose his particular shell. He silently tilts his head her way, picks up the basket and lets her know that now is not the time or place. He simply offers her his arm and escorts her across the soft sand to the Northern Esplanade.

They find an out of the way bench beneath a tree to sit on in order to replace their shoes, ready for the walk through the streets of Scarborough at the rear of the castle bluff and on to the Southern Cove and back to their room at the Grand Hotel.

"Show me your shell first, Elsie, then I will tell you why I chose mine."

"Well, all right," and she fishes it out of her purse to show him then laughs aloud as she sees his bushy eyebrows creeping up his forehead, somehow managing to make those little caterpillars look both perplexed and surprised all at the same time.

"Elsie! That would have to be one of the most boring and least pretty shells out of all the ones you collected!"

"That is most assuredly because this, dear husband, is a whelk shell," and she laughs at him heartily.

"Well, I should have known that something so disgusting would come from such a non-descript place. It is _brown,_ Elsie," he says with quite some distaste at the memory of the one whelk that ever deigned to pass itself off as food in the presence of Charles Carson's.

"Well Baron Trevor de Brown Trout shall have his very own play toy then- they can be a matching boring pair!" she chuckles again. "Perhaps I should name this little one too, for I chose him to remind me that my wonderful husband who, although he might appear to be a bit of a stodgy and boring old bean at times, still knows how to have fun," and she leans over to kiss him on the lips. "'Wally the Whelk,' I think I shall call this little fellow- to remind me of my very own Cheeky Charles, who likes to find and share his joy with me. And so now Wally is my special little shell just for you, a chagair," and she presses the coiled tip of Wally into the dimple on Charles' chin, looking mightily pleased with her incongruous choice of things to hold onto and treasure in this lifetime. Charles breaks into a silly grin at her wonderful flippant reasoning, complete with a loving backhanded compliment to him. _So very Elsie_ , he thinks happily. "Now! Tell me about yours, Charles."

"Well, Elsie-love, I happened to have chosen it for much the same reason as you, although I could never have gone past the elegance of the design and the size of this little beauty. For, you see, this shell I thought would look well enough on your little dressing table we will have in our cottage someday soon. And I rather thought, it might be useful…" and Charles leans in close to Elsie's face and she can feel his warm breath tickling across her cheek, as he reaches up silently to withdraw a single hair pin from Elsie's now very loose and fly-away hairstyling. "You see, pretty Elspeth," he whispers secretively near her ear, making the loosened strand of her hair flutter around her sensitive neck so that she actually shivers from the sensation, "when we get back to the hotel room, I shall demonstrate to you how this lovely shell can house all of your little hair pins of a night… and so in the future, every time you, or I, go to place your hairpins in this shell, we will remember the joy that we can find together whenever you, My Lady, _truly_ let your hair down,… Just as you will tonight…when I will kiss you and kiss you and not stop, I'll never stop wanting to kiss you, pretty Elspeth…. And tonight, I will kiss you, so slowly and so absolutely thoroughly and for as long as I can possibly endure, until we both find our joy so intensely and completely, and so often, that we will never…ever…forget our time together here,' he is breathing quite heavily along with Elsie at his desire filled reasoning, and his voice has become quite gravely as he finishes, "Nor will we forget how very deserving we each are of the other's love…and so that is why I chose this shell, a chagair," and he whispers this last out so low and close that Elsie senses it in her skin more than she really hears it over the whistling of the early evening sea breeze around their ears.

Elsie's mouth is slightly agape with want and her eyes had been following the movement of Charles' lips as he spoke so seductively to her, willing him to kiss her in that same way that fairly took her breath away as they had lain together on the beach earlier. But he doesn't. And it leaves her quite bereft and wanting, much as she left him earlier when she sauntered off to collect the shells and he was all alone with only his thoughts and unspoken words of love. Charles moves slowly away from Elsie's face and that ultimate temptation of her lips and rolls the hairpin across the back of his knuckles as if it were their lucky penny as he simultaneously moves to stand before his adoring wife. He pointedly places the hairpin within the cup of the pristine white shell he chose, and then he slides both into his hip pocket with the lines he penned for her earlier. Then Charles proffers his arm to Elsie, and proceeds to walk out with the lady he holds a very particular understanding with.

 **oOOo**

 **CECECECECE**

 **On Thomson's** _ **Summer s**_ **ection of the 'Seasons' suite of poems-**

 **I have played a bit fast and loose with the sequence and stanzas I have chosen to use here. This is because Thomson continued to edit this poem, and it would seem quite extensively so, until just before his death. The links below are for what is a 1730 imprint- and includes the lines about Musidora humanising Young Damon into manhood. The raciest stanzas I have Charles and Elsie read here are likely closer to the 1746 imprint (the Gutenberg 1908 version – see link below) and Damon is really getting in a bit of a flurry watching the fair Musidora bathe, but it also ends with that lovely note he leaves her, stating he will guard faithfully her privacy- and I just couldn't go past using it for our Charles and Elsie.**

 **I also chose the part from the earlier iteration of the poem that describe the 'flexile wave' as opposed to the 'obedient wave' as it changes substantially the notion that Damon was transformed by his thoughtful and more cautious dive into the stream. It is also the version that speaks more obviously of Damon's philosophical musings. It is entirely possible that Charles and Elsie have had access to this older version of the poem through Lord Grantham's library, but it seems fitting that Elsie gave Charles the later imprint version in something like the 1908 imprint I have found online via Project Gutenberg Australia. Anyway- I needed it to do what I need it to do- so I mixed it all in together! Apologies to the purists, but my treatment of even the Chelsie canon is evidence enough that I don't mind sampling and disrupting texts quite a bit (a LOT!) to suit my own selfish aims!**

 **Because of all this messing about, I cannot give accurate line numbers from the poem, but they both appear at roughly the 960 – 1100 mark in either imprint found via those links. Choose your favourite. They are both rather racy in their own ways, and it sure beats reading Fifty Shades!**

 **. /e/ecco/004810089.0001.000/1:11?rgn=div1;view=fulltext**

 **.**

 ***Peeping Tom –**

 **Just an interesting side note, given I have at one point describe Elsie as being as confident as Lady Godiva in the streets. The Peeping Tom originated from this story of Lady Godiva. No one was actually meant to look upon her, but the rascal Peeping Tom did.**

 **Next Up: The mega chapter as promised/ threatened!- but all in good time. **

**Kind regards,**

 **BorneToFlow. : )**


	40. Chapter 40- Full Luxuriance

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 40- Full Luxuriance**

 **Warning:**

M-rating.

More NSFW sweet loving for our heroes- because it will move them through _some_ new personal spaces (perhaps debatable!)… and…well…it is really just because I can! ;P

Enjoy.

BorneToFlow : )

 **CECECECECE**

 **oOOo**

 _Charles moves slowly away from Elsie's face and that ultimate temptation of her lips and rolls the hairpin across the back of his knuckles as if it were their lucky penny as he simultaneously moves to stand before his adoring wife. He pointedly places the hairpin within the cup of the pristine white shell he chose, and then he slides both into his hip pocket with the lines he penned for her earlier. Then Charles proffers his arm to Elsie, and proceeds to walk out with the lady he holds a very particular understanding with._

 **oOOo**

 **CECECECECE**

 **The Grand Hotel, Honeymoon Suite.**

 **Scarborough, Yorkshire.**

 **Early Evening, Wednesday 2** **nd** **June, 1926**

Having deposited all their beach picnic gear with the concierge downstairs, Charles and Elsie return to their room on the top floor. They walk in step to the large bay window and look out at the light fading over the water of the southern cove. Charles stands silently behind Elsie with his large hands resting on her strong shoulders, as if they have just always _belonged_ there. They feel languid and sun blest and sea breeze swept - refreshed and clear of head.

Eventually, Elsie turns into Charles' embrace and they just hold each other quietly. _So at home_. And indeed, this new space for them to live in for a few days feels a little homelier than the Ritz Hotel ever could, although they do not regret any of the lovely and luxurious times they spent in London. In fact, the Grand Hotel still offers them quite an opulent and large room; however, they have actually found it easier to not have their goods and chattels spread across two separate dressing rooms and find it far more convenient to be sharing wardrobes and the one bathroom attached to this room. It is much more how they feel they will fit together with each other when they return to their new rooms at the Abbey, and eventually move into their own little cottage.

They work around each other's needs for the space with the same easy unison they have always found when working together at the Abbey over all these years. Only now, they can brush against each other without fear of overstepping any bounds of propriety. And indeed, they both relish the new freedom they have to just reach out and touch each other whenever the fancy should take them- brushing fingertips lightly onto forearms or along jawlines, or through hair, or to the base of each other's neck.

Elsie just adores placing her fingertip into Charles' chin cleft whenever its delightfulness threatens to totally overwhelm her. Of course, it has always shown up the most when he is looking gruff or serious, but now her fingertip will often bring him out of this state and the dip actually flattens away as he gives one of those beautiful close-lipped smiles that shows his delight more within his gleaming dark eyes than anywhere else. But then, Elsie has discovered that if she keeps her finger pressed there for longer, the full-faced grin that was always threatening to emerge from beneath that chubby cheeked reticence to display his abundant emotions rises most surely, and he will break into the most beauteous smile where his eyes will squint up almost closed but gleam even brighter still, and it is then that his little chin dimple returns and it somehow captures Elsie by the very tip of her finger and draws her wholly into his own effusive joy. She loves how it transforms his whole face and seems to bring him into his truest self. She loves that she is the one who can inspire him to embrace his happiness in this way and that she can be right there with him to share in it all. And even better, it invariably inspires in him a reason to share a lovely kiss with her too. And so the strong and serious man-of the-world cleft transforms into a young and vigorous lad on the cusp of all of life- all dimpled and fresh cheeked and sometimes even rascally in intent, and always ready for love and even fun and belly laughs with her. And so that is when her truly Cheeky Charles appears for her- and her stodgy old bean of a butler is still in behind there, but Charles Carson is just so much more now. _That is why this my favourite pastime!_ she realises with astounding clarity. _It brings my Charles out of himself_.

And now, Elsie has found an additional little pleasure as she performs this now quite regular gesture of affection for her man. For she has discovered the joy in tracing the tip of her pinky finger along the small scar under his chin line at the same time. She has finally found out that it is from an early attempt at shaving with a cut-throat razor gone terribly awry and requiring a mess of poorly applied stitches to fix it. But, Charles has never been one to make a mistake like that repeatedly and Elsie can now stand in quite some awe of Charles' adept handling of the lethally sharp blade as he sees to keeping a flawlessly smooth face for them both. On a silly whim, as she stood watching him swiftly shave this morning they quickly worked out that for his roughly fifty years in service, having mostly shaved twice a day, he has actually wielded the knife to his skin more 36,000 times, and with very few mishaps in all of that time. It seems outlandish when they consider it that way, but it does prove the point that it is no great wonder that Charles has developed a high level of expertise with this small task. And Charles is more than happy to keep up with the routine in retirement because he now knows just how much pleasure it can bring to his Elsie when he runs his smooth face all over her soft and wanting skin. It's the best reason he has ever had for waking up in the morning and having to see to his pesky, fast-growing whiskers all over again.

oOOo

From within their comfortable embrace by the window, Elsie's hands that have been playing beneath Charles waistcoat, rubbing small circles on the base of his back, start searching for more contact with her lovely husband's skin. She plays down into his waistband and releases the back buttons of his braces and then boldly slides her hands around to his front to see to the front fastenings. His pants drop rather rapidly about his thighs without the suspenders there to secure them, Charles draws a deep steadying breath and just stands still to watch it all happen. He loves how much he is wanted by her. He loves her confidence in loving him and asking through her actions and words for what she wants- what they both really want. He just loves _her._

"Kick your shoes off, Love, let's get you out of these sandy things." She says in an eminently practical tone that still manages to take his breath away. He never thought he would ever have anyone willingly ask him to disrobe! His life has just taken off on such on incredibly strange and wonderful trajectory since they married. All of these new little experiences that he never even thought to dream of- and all of it so much better than a dream anyway.

Charles accedes to Elsie's request and then steps out of his trousers as they puddle around his ankles. Elsie bends to go and drape them over a nearby chair, but Charles remembers the little shell and his promise to see to her hairpins tonight, plus he is not yet ready for her to see the note he has penned for her, so he takes the pants from her to retrieve what he needs.

"Let's keep this safe on the dresser, Els."

Elsie leads on and Charles toes off his socks as he draws the curtains closed and then he pads across the room in his undershorts, shirt tails, waistcoat and tie- quite a sight for sore eyes! But Elsie smiles up at him as she spies his odd attire more completely in the dressing table mirror. She enjoys this slow transformation of the publicly respectable Mr Carson into the private and homely, yet passionate man that she alone gets to enjoy. She finds him beautiful- relaxed and clear skinned and lovely- even in his striped undershorts- although she is rather pleased he has divested himself so quickly of the socks, for then she likely would have snickered at his current level of attire.

Charles reaches around Elsie and places the shell on her dresser, it looks so small in his hand, but he is so very gentle and commanding all at the same time with his large muscular body. The contrasts are exquisite and his control over, and the elegant restraint of his power are actually incredibly erotic to her. It speaks of trust.

Elsie turns back to him and divests him of his rounded day collar and neck tie. Then she fishes for his pocket watch that houses her little lock of hair out of his waistcoat, unhooking the chain from the button it is secured to. She places it down near the shell that still has her single hairpin from earlier wedged into one of the concave ridges. She finds the similar size, but contrasting convex shaping of his intricately engraved silver watch aesthetically pleasing and she smiles at the simple domesticity of them being placed together on the dresser like this for the evening. It is how their nights will be from now on and it comforts her. Next, she retrieves their precious six pence from Charles' waistcoat pocket and places it into the shell. This pleases her also. It shows her the surety of their future together – and reminds her of their great good fortune to have each other to share their lives with and acquire new and beautiful memories together- side by side. All of their life together- encompassed in these carefully chosen and precisely placed mementoes. _Pretty as a picture._

She turns back and smiles a serene and loving smile up at her man, who has been watching this little ceremony of the displaying and safekeeping of their lives and loves with equally delighted attention to all of its little details. They really are starting to build their new home together around their love, and this new-found language of intimacy that they share is guiding them surely down this easy path.

"My turn, Mrs Carson." He speaks quietly as he reaches up and starts to gently remove all of Elsie's hairpins. He places them precisely in the shell, one by one. In order to reach the ones right at the back of Elsie's head, he moves closer and rests his lips silently upon her forehead in a still and gentle kiss as her streaming locks fully unravel into his fingers and a delightful pang of pure contentedness dances right through his heart. He will never tire of seeing and handling Elsie's hair this way- bringing her out of herself. In his mind, it is an absolute privilege to have such close access to Elsie as she truly is. They sigh quietly into one another.

 _Such pleasant solitudes._

 _Together._

 _So peaceful._

Elsie slowly works at his waistcoat and shirt buttons while Charles takes care of his own cufflinks and places them into their white shell as well- the accoutrements of their public lives sitting quietly to the side as they return solely to themselves within their safe and warm embrace.

Charles starts slowly removing some items of Elsie's clothing now, and with extreme efficiency he sees to hanging them up in the wardrobe, for right now, there is so much soft skin to be caressed and kisses he is in desperate need of finding a home for. He sits before his wife on the little dresser stool and sees to her shoes as she stands tall before him in her sheer slip. Charles has always enjoyed handling the finest fabrics of the ladies of the House' long coats, but none of those items could possibly compare to how he feels right now- being able to freely run his hands over this simple and unembellished fine cotton garment on his beautiful Elsie - this is infinitely more pleasurable.

He bunches the flowing cloth up and sees to Elsie's stocking garters and then with a soft touch he inverts and draws the silk away from her snowy legs and delights once more in the delicate dancer's arches of her slender feet as she lifts each one to assist him in discarding the transparent gossamer.

Charles slowly runs the fingertips of both his hands up the inside of Elsie's legs- her skin is just so delicate and soft to touch – and as he moves inexorably closer to the core of her desire, her legs sway in a beautiful yearning ballet for him. He bunches her slip up over his wrists as he travels higher and then he rises most surely before her. Elsie stretches her arms up high to assist Charles once more in the disrobing of her most willing body. Charles sees their reflections in the mirror and the lithe movements of his wife's muscular back and beauteous limbs caught briefly in the flowing drapes of her slip above her head draws a lustful animal growl from deep within his chest. Now in her undergarments, Elsie is feeling the flame of Charles heat for her strike deep within her breast and she turns fully towards the mirror to allow Charles easy access to the buttons of her brassiere and briefs.

Charles feels a sudden and wild throbbing desire for his fair wife overwhelm him like a hot and rushing flood. His lips rappel rapidly down the curvature of her neck as he makes very short work of the fastenings of her undergarments and tosses both items swiftly aside and he only stalls briefly in the passion of his movements when the need to kick his undershorts free of his own legs is inescapable. And in that moment- he stops- still in his open fronted waistcoat and flowing shirtsleeves and he makes sure to catch Elsie's assenting eyes in the glass before he plunges headlong into utterly ravishing her.

Unequivocally.

His large hands run quickly up her sides and cup and cover both her breasts entirely- squeezing deliciously into all of that harmoniously swelled womanliness. And Elsie loves seeing his huge hot hands engulfing so much of her ample flesh and fondling her ravenously, verging on a little roughly at times, but always with the utmost care and awareness of what is actually pleasing to her and what may be pushing the limits of her flesh's capacity to endure such relentless kneading and pinching and rolling of her lust-hardened nipples.

Her cheeks are blushed with a sultry glow as she watches her man grasping at her from behind. Almost devoid of sense and caught up in the tumult of his lust by the soul-distracting view of his limber and buxom and oh-so-giving wife- her naked limbs, the hot flush of her bosom, the lily white shine of her naked limbs, the undulating waves and rippling softness of the skin of her belly as she heaves in lusty sighs and calls out the honeyed rolling chant of his name- rolling the vowels over her burr, and then - _Dear God!-_ that dewy rose of her lush and inviting womanly glade- all her charms inverted in the crystal depths. He is desperate for all of her- her every soft grace that now is full of self-approving beauty and completely void of shame or guilt as she urges her lover on... on.

She gasps for air and her heartbeat is matching the strong and rapid thudding of Charles's that she can feel up against her shoulder blades and through the broad power of his chest. His shirt front seams rub a delightful fluttering friction up her sides as he pulls her heavily against the hardness of his body. He is so tall behind her- she feels engulfed by his heated vigour, and by the lawless dark gaze of his eyes on hers within the mirrors walls.

Elsie writhes and arches back into him and feels his hot silken hardness rubbing up against the generous flesh of her hips and buttocks. She senses that he wants her final permission to do what they both now so desperately and suddenly want to do, and so her swelling soul stifles no more sighs and she most assuredly calls all of his passions unto her.

She quickly manoeuvres her knees onto the dresser stool to raise her self up to him, for he is so much taller than she, and then she grips hard onto the edge of the dressing table to ready herself.

"Now, Charles. Now!" She growls out hard. Demanding.

And Charles is right there with her- drawing in maddening deep draughts of her heady scent and the salt of the day from the air around them. But it is still with some shock of wild surprise that Elsie feels Charles sudden connection with her as he plunges deep into the circling flood of their shared passion. His eyes dive with purest unrestrained love into the profound and desire filled depths of her own blue eyes in the mirror and he drives all of his passion into his frantic movements- wanting to hold tightly to her and yet melt away into her totally all at once. His love for her is relentless and his body is hard and Elsie's is strong and open and moving extravagantly right along with him, pushing her hips hard back into him, wanting him deeper and faster than ever before. Soon she is screaming his name for him to come to her completely and her head drops forward and her hair flicks wildly up across his fevered face and strands of that deep silk cling to the dripping messy sweat of his brow as on a quick and final rising wave of wild lust they crash together in a furore of love and close in on one another to finish in a heaving panting glowing tangle of enraptured flesh.

At length, they start to breathe in the tender calm of the mutually satisfied air that surrounds them and they finally look up again into the looking glass, the deep and heady new flush of their glistening faces starting to settle into a mellow-lustred glow of sated warmth. A refreshing stream of uncontrollably gleeful laughter begins to bubble up from their hearts and they taste the lucid coolness of their shared delight.

"Well.. phew… My dear Lord, Charles… that was… was…. " And then she pants out a huge sunny laugh "My, my… Haaah…Was...was that what may be coarsely termed 'a knee–trembler'?"

"Ha!" Charles cannot help but guffaw out loudly again from the full depth and incredible lightness of his utter joy, as he maintains his half-embrace of Elsie and plonks his head heavily down onto the back of her neck and kisses away the sea salt and sweat from the between her shoulder blades."I believe the general effect of the act adequately bears out that name, yes, my love." And then he lifts his swimming head to gaze upon her lovingly in the looking glass once more, delighting in all of her fair exposed, fancy-blushed and glowing skin, and her long and sweat drenched wild and flowing tresses.

"Good God, Charles!… whatever came over us just then?" but she smiles such a broad and contented and happy smile back at him in the mirror that he knows she is not shocked by him, or by them, and he feels all of the rippling vigour of youth bursting forth from his skin anew, even as he continues to pant deeply to try and catch his breath.

"I believe, Musidora,… that upon spying your fervent limbs flailing about so beguilingly in the crystal depths the only true and logical course available to young Damon appeared quite clearly before his eyes …and he, in full luxuriance, rose!"

Elsie bursts out with a joyous laugh at this description of her man of such delicate refinement losing himself to his most powerful earthly passions- but his eloquence is always her surest sign that his true elegance of soul never once left her man- even in the midst of chasing his most unbridled appetites. Charles joins Elsie with his own hearty laugh as she extricates herself from her kneeling position on the dresser stool and turns to embrace Charles where he stands spent and swaying slightly behind her.

"That he did, Charles. That he did…. My! But you do have quite a way about you with words, my love. … amongst many other wonderful things I might add!.." and she giggles heartily for the love of him once more- and just for _life_ , really. "Haahh…" she sighs out long and contentedly. "How are the old clicky knees baring up anyway, noble Sir Carson. "

"Surprisingly well actually. I am, after all, a man who is used to standing to attention." He deadpans, for he cannot help but try this quip on her given their current at-ease state.

He is rewarded with another of Elsie's wonderful free and hearty laughs and that broad and happy smile looking up at him from the great depths of her pure blue eyes.

"You are so _h_ wonderful, Charles. I never knew anything in this world could be like this. Hmmm..." she sighs happily against him, "and your sides are all dewy and polished now, to boot, young Damon!" she joshes as she slips her arms around his torso and slides the humid veil of her own skin over the sheer strength of him - wanting all of that frantic closeness they have just shared to somehow melt into herself again. "Hmmm.. she sighs once more, quite replete, yet knowing she will always be hungry for more- with Charles- her man. "So," she speaks languidly to him now that the headlong rush of passion has subsided and the contented afterglow of bliss is rolling through her whole body to take its place, "whatever happened to kissing me tonight and never stopping until we both risk utter collapse, my dear Charles."

"Well, currently the collapse is likely more imminent than either of us would desire," he sighs out, but then brightens immediately "However! The night is still young, fair Musidora, and I believe there may still be world enough and time to guide you first to clear flowing streams and from there I can begin bathing you fully with all of my kisses, just as promised. We may have to stop for replenishment with some dinner vittles at some point though," he adds light-heartedly. Charles smiles with almost drunken giddiness as he moves gently from her embrace and his hand flutters in that movement of uncontrollable joy as he reaches to hold her hand in his. He gazes upon his muse with infinite love and motions them towards the bathroom. "Come," He beckons solemnly, "bathe on- Oh, fair and faithful love."

 **oOOo**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Ok- so I lied! The ultra lengthy chapter is actually the next one!- That is definite now and my final few chapters are written and ready to edit and so should be posted fairly rapidly thereafter.**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow**


	41. Chapter 41- The Darkest Hour

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 41- The Darkest Hour**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own them or profit from them-and I do I thank JF for them, but I also try to treat them better than a TV series ever could- I'll not deny it!**

 **Sorry:** **Standard BorneToFlow nonsense- all included more for my own benefit than anyone else's! ; P**

 ****WARNING:****

 **This chapter is LONG,** **I know it!**

 **But I will not cut it up, even if it should be cut up… or cut out completely! This writing is quite an exercise in selfishness for me- I'll not deny this, either. However, around 7000 words of this chapter are my notes and musings- so do skip them entirely if they totally peeve you. I do know that they are distracting- but it is my process of understanding all of Charles and Elsie's' relationship- and when I finish this fiction, I sincerely promise to leave any writing of DA fan fiction to those of you out there who are far more respectful of their audience' needs! I believe after this, my story will end with 2-3 more, much shorter chapters, and then I will bid you all adieu.**

 **Author Notes:**

 **OK, so anyone who has been following me in the DA fanfic world will understand how much of a travesty I feel all of S6 and the post and some of the pre-wedding characterisation of Chelsie is. I am not known to shut up about it all really! Only recently have I come to see this is mainly being due to the fact that Charles and Elsie's obvious story arc was one of romance- and yet JF completely subverted (and poorly so) the literary conventions of the romance genre that we have come to expect, and so it all fell horribly flat, at least for me. More notes about that at the end of this chapter though.**

 **Anyway, if you do not know my stance yet on all things DA yet, please go and read my full treatise on my profile page- my position has not ostensibly changed since I wrote that, although this whole fiction writing process has at least led me to better understanding Lady Mary and accepting her as a pretty meaty character with at least some redeeming qualities to her. And in lengthy PM conversations with fellow DA FF writer Edward Carson, I have probably come to dislike Edith a whole lot more! Go figure! Although, again, I would argue from my perspective, that this is more because her 'tragedy' story arc was also not handled very well by JF and he capitulated to audience demands for a Happily Ever After (HEA) for her, and no matter the cost to the people around her (namely, The Drewe's), when this HEA does not fit with our expectations for that particular genre of storytelling. In fact, if we take her story arc to be one of a Tragedy, then Edith probably should have got her comeuppance right and proper in the end and paid the price for having a fatal character flaw (which is probably envy) that she has refused to learn from… BUT!- I digress as per usual, and now that I have thrown it all out there, I will also faithfully refuse to write anymore DA fics- and certainly not about Edith!- whom I mostly mentally filtered out of my emotional responses to DA when the totally unlikeable plotline with the Drewes and Marigold started playing out in increasingly ridiculous ways. Edward Carson and I have vented back and forth extensively about the a-historical nature of all of this occurring and that will actually suffice for me- Sorry!**

 **Anyway, Charles and Elsie have always been my real focus, and ultimately, this honeymoon fiction has been my way of making everything right in my own head and heart for them in the end- the much sort after HEA- (Happily Ever After) that the 'romance' genre requires to make it satisfying to read - and it can all happen so easily if the post-modernist penchant for disrupting standard genres to make some sort of literary point is ignored completely, and in the case of DA canon – most likely this could have/should have been the case with no loss to our ongoing viewing pleasure. Anyway, after all of this, I can safely leave Downton all behind me, having acquired enough happy memories of this loved up pair of old boobies to keep on dreaming with.**

 **All that said, romance can actually provide the site for some really important cultural work and the self-actualisation needs for the writer and reader alike to occur. It should never be dismissed as purely fluff, I don't think. It is a narrative structure of huge importance to humans, and it can be very entertaining to boot, and so I have endeavoured to dig deeply into big things via Charles and Elsie.**

 **BTW Mr Fellowes** **-**

 **Please, please, PLEASE!- do** **NOT** **make a movie!... (although, I am sure I will still be dumb enough to go and watch it if you did, anyway!). Edward Carson's** _ **1926 Downton Abbey**_ **fiction is doing a fine job of continuing the S6 canon that was. And apart from EC's great work, I will just always dismiss S6 in my own mind, anyway!**

 **Moving on:**

 **Throughout all of my reading and research and re-watching of S1-5 and a few pre –wedding S6 eps, there has arisen another travesty of canon that I feel I must address via my fiction. This is the reason why I had Charles and Elsie discuss the whole Daisy education thing in Chapter 33- because Charles was such an unaccountable a*s about all of that in canon- Just as he was with Beryl and the war memorial too- the lost and floundering, crabby old doofus!- and I needed to work out why he did that so I could explain his behaviour to myself, even if I do not want to justify it entirely. Many other parts of JF canon I have just dismissed as far too Out Of Character for Charles and Elsie to even bother with (Namely, the Becky/pauper and cooking-gate debacles- as you would all know by now). But, these particular story lines re Charles, and the main one I will cover in this chapter now, I could actually justify facing and trying to fit in with the Charles and Elsie characterisations we got to see developing in S1-4.**

 **Maybe this chapter would have been better explored in a separate story,** **but** **I don't really want to get embroiled much further in an alternate DA Universe of my own design that may in fact be an exponentially expanding wee beastie that I will not ever be able to rein in. As such, this chapter is a bit of a re-jig of the Anna/Green nastiness because, although this part of JF canon is flawed and has big enough plot holes in the wash up of it all to drive a couple of steam locomotives through, it is just a sad fact that women like those in Anna's position would have faced such violence quite regularly (although more likely at the hands of men** _ **within**_ **the household itself). And so, I do accept it as canon that I need to work through via Charles and Elsie in this story of mine. – And most surprisingly, it has now required me rejigging what the Downton Abbey Wikia says of the timing of Elsie's relationship with Joe Burns. Gah! These rabbit holes!**

 **So, Timeline wise:**

 **I have had to re-think how and when Elsie may have known Joe Burns. She says in Season 1 Ep 4 that "** _ **Before I first came here as head housemaid, I was walking out with a farmer. When I told him I'd taken a job at Downton, he asked me to marry him. I was a farmer's daughter from Argyll,**_ _ **so I knew the life. He was very nice, but then I came here and I did well, and I didn't want to give it up. So, I told him no, and he married someone else. She died three years ago, and he last month he wrote asking to see me again and I agreed, because**_ _ **all**_ _ **this time I've wondered."**_ **Ok, so I feel this is actually quite open to interpretation- as all literature is- and so I have interpreted it differently to accepted DA wiki dates and facts.**

 **All will be revealed! But the upshot of it was that I have adjusted one turn of phrase in a previous chapter of** _ **mine**_ **to accommodate this new background I have since come up with for Elsie- (see Ch. 24- Colour, Sweetness and Light) to allow for the fact that I now have her leave Yorkshire, albeit quite briefly, in her very late 20s to early 30s. I will leave my other musings about his timeline to the end notes I think.**

 **However, I do hope that you end up liking how I have decided to machine all of my ideas for Charles and Elsie together in with other actual DA canon facts and dates and the like.**

 **Anyway, re the Anna/Green stuff-**

 **It will not be graphic, but Charles and Elsie** _ **will**_ **discuss, in depth, their memories of that time, which are also off-canon BECAUSE!…**

 **1/ I really think Charles** **had** **to have been cognisant of the whole event at the time. If not immediately, at least by about the time Lord Grantham had to scarper to the USA to bail out Harold Levinson. I mainly base this on the many looks Charles actually picked up on between Bates, Anna, Green and Elsie – the sense that all was far from right with that lot did not actually go unnoticed by him in the series; and therefore, I believe he must have taken at least** _ **some**_ **sort of action, even if this never occurred in the canon we saw on screen. So, this chapter will now require that you forget Charles' seeming ignorance about why Sergeant Willis, or Vyner, or whoever, were milling about so much in S5-S6 and making enquiries about Anna and Bates all the time.**

 **2/ However, my main reason for broaching this uncomfortable part of canon at all is actually because there are aspects of Elsie's behaviour at the time of Anna's trauma (S4) that have always disturbed me and I needed a way to explain them and somehow weave an understanding of them into the** _ **fabric**_ **of her character to make a more complete picture of Elsie- and one that goes beyond just saying- well that is JF just being blinkered to the full realities of violence towards women from a woman's perspective because he is a male writer.**

**BTW** **\- Did you ever note how Anna's trials are always centralised around how it would all affect _Mr Bates_ \- more so than it was about Anna and her ability to rebuild her life and her identity after the attack? Just sayin'-Hmm…but the Downton Abbey Patriarchy and the Patriarchal systems of the Aristocracy in general were always painted by JF as almost flawlessly benevolent- which is probably the ultimate in fiction demanding of us our willing suspension of disbelief – **_**No?**_ **But who doesn't love some sweet, rosy-coloured glasses nostalgia to while away the hours with, hey?- That is why I love Fred and Ginger films after all!- No Great Depression in sight there!**

 **So, as much as this centralising of the wronged husband's response to his wife's rape may have been both men's and women's initial focus of such events in that era- I would argue ONCE AGAIN- that DA viewing canon gives these women** **absolutely** **no voice in the form of a piece of art that may actually also have broader socio-cultural relevance for our** _ **own**_ **contemporary era. And DA canon most certainly does not give these women credit for having full interior lives and clear thoughts about the full impact of** _ **any**_ **of these events on themselves relevant to the times that** _ **they**_ **lived in, which, let's face it- is just absolute piffle! (to use the parlance of that age!). So, yes –** _ **even**_ **way back in the 1920s women had …lives! And they thought about them too!- and as deeply as we think on our own lives now. And I would also wager that women have had fully realised emotional lives for a tad longer in human history as well!**

 **Now, I will not claim that I have adequately answered to all of this in my own fiction, but I do flatter myself to think that this format of writing can at least offer greater depth to these characters and their responses to violence than JF ever could offer (or perhaps, subconsciously, ever really wanted to offer) them in the format of a weekly, hour-long TV show.**

 **Anyway, still keep in mind, that all peoples' experiences of such violence will be different, and I can only hope that what I have imagined herein makes some sense to you and seems reasonable in terms of these particular characters' lives and responses that could also sit reasonably within their own particular social and cultural heritage.**

 **But, I have probably already said far too much to begin with – as per usual!**

 **As a precaution, this chapter is still** **M- rated** **for the themes discussed, and carries a -**

 ****** **TRIGGER WARNING** **** for those who may need it. **

**As I said- My aim is to be non-graphic, just** _ **candid**_ **in Charles and Elsie's talks about violence in general, and violence towards women in particular- sexual or otherwise, but in that very guarded/polite 1926 British way of speaking that they have.**

 **So, that all said, this is going to be a tad angsty!**

 **Please, let me know what you think.**

 **Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **CECECECECE**

 **oOOo**

 **The Grand Hotel, Honeymoon Suite.**

 **Scarborough, Yorkshire.**

 **Thursday, 3** **rd** **June, 1926**

 _ø_

 _I know …_

 _You_

 _You!_

 _But I do know,_

 _Mrs Hughes!_

 _ø_

 _No…_

 _Who?_

 _Sl_ _µ_ _t!_

 _Who's there?_

 _ø_

 _What were you thinking?!_

 _I know._

 _You can't._

 _Don't take me for a fool!_

 _I know who you are._

 _No!_

 _ø_

 _You can't!_

 _Go!_

 _-Storming in like Boadicea!_

 _ø_

 _I know what you've done._

 _Stop!_

… _before the Roman hoards!_

 _ø_

 _I know._

 _You Filthy wh_ _ø_ _re!_

 _You can't win!_

 _I know who you are!_

 _Noh!_

 _ø_

 _Just…Not on your own!_

 _LET ME._

 _Stay … shadows_

 _In Shadows_

 _ø_

 _Joker._

 _Play._

 _LET ME!_

 _Mrs Hughes!_

 _Stop!_

 _Demon-Shadows_

 _Racing_

 _Shadows_

… _Shadows_

 _I know!_

 _I know what you've done._

 _Let me…_

 _ø_

"… _Help…me.."_

 _Don't._

" _Don't!"_

" _Don't touch me!"_

"Els?"

" _Shah…Snah.. Grr..hnnh! Hnnh … Noh… Noh!… Get off!...Noh you get off me…_

 _Get off! Get off me now!"_

"Els!"

" _Hnnnahhh!"_

"Elsie!"

"Hanh! Noh! Noh!"

ø

"Elsie-Love! Love, it's me, it's Charles!… Elsie, Elsie… Wake up! I'm here love. It's me, Love… Wake up now, Elsie-love. Come here Els, it's me,… it's me… I'm here… I'm here, Love, here…shhh…shhh-now, shh… I've got you, Love. It's all right, I've got you…"

"Charles?"

"Shh… Love, it's me. It's Charles. I've got you."

"Charles, hnnh," Elsie whimpers, heart still racing like a demon as she crashes into his chest -a weeping mess- as she stops struggling and flailing against his bulk and starts clutching onto him instead- like he is the last piece of driftwood left from a sinking ship in a vast black ocean.

"Shh. It's all right, Love, I'm here… I'm always here… You had a bad dream I think love. Just let me hold you. I'll hold you. That's right. Shh...it's going to be all right."

Having shuffled to sit against the headboard, drawing Elsie up with him, Charles wraps his great arms gently around her as she lies up against his side, one leg curled up over his thigh. He rocks them both lightly from side to side as Elsie continues to weep quietly onto his chest, and more steadily now for all of his tender care- for finally being here with her completely- through everything now.

She had hoped these dreams had passed- many years ago. She had hoped. Hoped that Charles would never see _any_ of this. Hoped that she need not feel any of this ever again. _Not this fear again_. Not for months. So many, many months. Not since Anna was cleared. Finally, safe. _Why does it have to always come back?_

Elsie takes a shuddering, clearing breath. She is grateful, for at least now she is waking from it with more than just cold sweat and a sinking dread surrounding her. His arms. Around her. His lips are pressed in a constant and steady silent kiss onto her forehead, her head tucked into his shoulder, much as they had drifted off to sleep together late last night after sweetly and slowly making gentle love together after their bath and dinner.

 _Safe._

 _He is here. That is real. This is real_.

She breathes in deeply.

She holds him.

Charles continues to rub over her back in circles and murmurs soothing sounds to her until she settles.

"Elsie?" He questions quietly "Are you all right? Can I get you anything? Water?"

"No Charles. Just keep holding me. I just need you to keep holding me for a while. I'm sorry I woke you," as she yawns out the last of her sleep. She does not want to sleep again. Not now.

"Shh, now. None of that. I just need to know you are all right."

"I will be, Charles. Thank you," she says in a tiny tremulous voice.

"I'm always here, you know that."

"I know, a chagair. And I love you for it, Charles, ever so much," she whispers to him.

"Mmm… Love you too. Do…do you want to tell me about it?"

"What time is it?"

Charles snuffs out a little air from his nose. "Just our usual ungodly hour for greeting the day I think you will find. Mrs Hughes. Dark still. Maybe we can push it out to the actual dawn when we retire, hmm?"

Elsie huffs out a knowing laugh, glad for some of the normal nonsense of their lives to have cut through all of this heaviness a little. It reminds her of the happiness that can still be found in the world, in spite of everything.

"That might be nice, yes. Something else to look forward to, hmm?"

"Shall I ring down for an early pot of tea?"

 _Something else that is good. Tea is good._ She hangs onto this small truth too. _Tea is good. And that matters. Charles is even better, though._ And this makes her mouth lift in the smallest of grateful smiles to the world.

"In a moment. Just Let me hold you first, Charles."

"Always, Love."

They fall into silence and Elsie starts circling her fingertips over Charles chest hair as she listens to the steady thud if his strong heart _. Such a big- hearted man_ , she thinks. _Maybe some men just end up with more heart than others._

"Elsie…" Charles starts very quietly and tentatively, "in your dream… I heard you ..who were you telling to get off you? Who don't you want to touch you, my love?"

Charles is worried. _Is it me? It can't be me, surely?_

Elsie sighs out long. "You needn't worry about it Charles. It is just a dream."

"Is it? You say _is_ , not _was_ …Have… have you had this dream before, Els? Tell me, please. And it was not a dream, I could hear it. It was a nightmare, wasn't it?"

"It doesn't happen often, Charles," she tries to reassure him- which is not the exact truth, and which he promptly sees right through.

"Elsie, please don't take me for a fool." Elsie flinches in his arms at his words. "Els? What is it? Will you please tell me?"

"You have said that before, that's all."

"Said what? When?" Elsie remains tight lipped and silent, still resting on his chest. "Elsie, I really think you need to tell me what is going on. This happens quite a bit …doesn't it? And When did I say those words before? And why is it in your dreams? Or, at least in this one that has obviously upset you so?" She just shrugs against him and remains silent. Partly, because she does not want to relive it all, but equally because she does not want him to fret. But mainly, because she is not quite sure where to start. "Elsie, here, sit up onto the pillows while I go and organise for a pot of tea to be sent up. And we are going to sit together and talk until I have this all out of you. I … I am not comfortable with this for some reason. Like when we are not in agreement. But different… and I don't … I just don't like it at all… because…because… I just don't want you to suffer whatever thisis alone, Elsie-love. I told you that in London, didn't I?" he says softly. "Please don't feel you have to do this on your own again, and do not shut me out again, Elsie, please." And he kisses her ever so tenderly on the temple "I promise, I am here."

He helps her on with her white night gown with the delicate blue cornflowers around her neckline to keep the morning chill off her shoulders and bends to tuck the blankets securely over her torso as she sits looking gratefully at him, wiping some remaining tears from her cheeks with the clean handkerchief he has found for her.

 _What on Earth have you become Elsie Hughes? You are a right snivelling mess lately!_

oOOo

Once he has changed into his own cosy pyjamas for the first time in this whole week away, Charles settles in next to her again and they sip their strong tea in silence, Charles quietly broaches the subject again as he sets their cups aside.

"How often does this happen, Els?"

She reaches to caress his cheek with the back of her hand. As he scoops his arm around her shoulder and draws her close to him.

"My dear man," then she sighs out long and presses her fingertip into the cleft of his chin. _Like a full stop_. It makes her feel certain for some reason- like he is the space that marks the completion of her thoughts. "Hmm… it doesn't happen often anymore, Charles. It never happened for many, many years and it has not happened for a long time now either – not since we found out Anna is all right- finally free… well… as free as she and Mr Bates will ever be of all that horrid mess, I suppose. But I'll not deny that I thought I had finally seen the last of them all, these dreams. But I guess this week has worn me out a little, I am probably a little overtired, is all." And she manages to give him a wan but appreciative smile. Charles eyes flicker with loving recognition of their honeymoon activities, but only briefly, for his concern for her soon overwhelms any notions that those particularly sweet memories need to be chased after just yet.

"Elsie, please stop trying to make light of this… if this is about Anna… why.. why were you calling for someone to get off of _you_? Did… did Green hurt you too?!" He asks in horror and sits up, ramrod straight as, finally, the connection smashes fully into his heart like a morning milk train.

"No! Charles, no!" She grips at his hand. "Not me. Not Green. And not on this old bag of bones, I can assure you. This was all just a mixed-up dream. That's all… and I would wager it just …I don't know… felt worse this time… because I could feel you holding me so tight. It made me feel trapped… like I was underwater and couldn't get to the surface." Charles looks mortified and when she sees it her heart catches in her chest. She squeezes hard to his hand. "Charles-love, it is not you, really. I always want to be in your arms. You always make me feel safe, you know that. It is just all mixed up, that's all. I could not know it was actually you holding me in my sleep. It is all still I a bit new, you know- sleeping in someone's arms." And she gives him a sweet little reassuring and appreciative smile. Charles breathes out a long relieving breath, but he is still feeling rather agitated.

"Elsie… has… has ... anything like what happened to Anna… _did_ that ever happen to you? If not Green, and may he forever rot in Hell," he bites out as an aside, "but…but at some other time, perhaps?"

Elsie looks him right in the eye so he knows the truth of her next statement. "No Charles, never quite like with Anna…I was one of the lucky ones, I guess… but it came _awfully_ close … and on more than one occasion… when I was younger… in the last house before I came to Downton."

Charles is aghast. "But, Elsie! That was Duneagle! How could McCree have let that happen?!" But then he falters in his blame of Lord Flintshire's former Butler, for the unfortunate truth of it is, that _it_ happened to Anna and under his _own_ watch at Downton. He consciously calms his breathing and speech a little for Elsie's benefit, and his own. "Did…did McCree know of it, Elsie? Please tell me everything. Tell me what happened to you… is this _why_ you came to Downton in the first place? Is this why you left there?" He has worked himself into a bit of a frenzy again and his legs are tense and twitching. _Not my Elsie-love. Please! Let no one have hurt my Elsie-love._ He can feel the tears pooling heavily in his eyes as he looks intensely into hers. His heart hurts terribly, like it is somehow stretched out thin within his chest.

Elsie sighs out long. "Yes, it is why I left. Well, it is _one_ of the reasons I left, and sadly, the main reason at the time. But Charles, I was not actually hurt – not like our Anna was, just _… nearly._ But I have no doubt that I would have been in time- if I had stayed on there."

Charles just bundles her into himself at that, drawing both of her legs fully across his lap and cradling her completely in his arms, her head tucked under his chin and his body rocking both of them gently from side to side once more, and some of his tears do drop and warmly soak into her hair. Elsie's eyes well up again for the desperate amount of love she feels flowing from Charles - from his very pores it seems. _The whole of his heart. All of his love. My dearest man._ She tucks her hand through the gap in his pyjama buttons to feel the warmth of the skin of his chest against her desperately chilled fingertips.

She draws in a deep shuddering breath to continue, "I think that is why my dreams are all messed up with all of Anna's trials. But I assure you, I am all right. It is just memories surfacing Charles. Bad memories- but that is all." She settles into his arms. It feels easier to just talk close into his chest, where she can hear the steadiness of his ever-present heart. _All of his love. Always._ Charles feels her relax into him and he stays silent, waiting for her words to come. And they do. "I've never really been sure how much McCree did know, Charles. I was a housemaid there at the time. But ready to be head housemaid if the position were to come up. I think Mrs Greer saw that in me. And McCree, he would have been reasonably new to the role I guess- still a young man, really. But,…it was never really a happy household, Charles, even way back then, Lord and Lady Flintshire… well, as we now have seen, they were never what could be called a 'love-match.' So very different to his Lordship and her Ladyship really. Their home, our home at Downton, Charles, it has always been built on love, really hasn't it?"

"Hmm… well, it was eventually…" he speaks quietly to Elsie, his jaw resting over her head. Elsie likes the feel of his vibrating throat in her hair when he does. It is soothing- and so very much… _Charles_. It makes her mouth quirk upwards- just the slightest amount. "As you know, it was not exactly a love match for His Lordship to begin with, but it grew for them, and I saw it happen. It didn't take long for them to see and appreciate each other's true qualities and they never really looked back, I don't think. His Lordship has been a lucky man."

"Hmm… but it makes all the difference in the world, in the end. Doesn't it, Charles?- Building a home based on love."

"It surely does." Charles affirms as he squeezes his arms even tighter around his wife and thinks of the home they will soon build together. Elsie has settled even more heavily onto him. He feels steadier for it, despite a slight shivering that shimmers within her frame. He senses that, more so than he really feels it to the touch.

"And Downton is a home because of it, Charles. Duneagle _never_ was. Always more of a…a _fortress_ , now that I think on it. Anyway, McCree, he was just like you in many ways. I wonder where he is now? Do you still correspond a little, Charles?"

"Not since the sale. I think he went to his sister's in the wash up after all that- where else could he go, really? Too old and not enough houses left in need of a Butler, even of his experience, I would wager. I trust he is all right, but I doubt he enjoyed retirement being foisted upon him in that way."

"No, I doubt it. He was a good enough man, in his way, even when I was there. Exacting and precise. … Impressive even," And she quirks a small smile into Charles chest. "A stickler for all of the traditions, just like you. Which is as a good butler should be… but… his loyalty was always _divided_ it seems, now that I think about it- especially as I understand more clearly than ever your true commitment to serving His Lordship- and how you have always honoured that- and unfalteringly so." She squeezes further around Charles' tummy, to let him know she knows that it really _does_ matter, and that it does him very proud to be that sort of a man. "You see, I don't know if McCree ever really was Lord Flintshire's man, as you have been to His Lordship. But I also don't know if he was fully loyal to Lady Flintshire, either, even though she ruled the roost there for the most part when Lord Flintshire was away from the house- which even back then, seemed to be about as often as he could possibly manage, what with work and hunting and the like. Anyway, I think McCree was a bit of a harsher man than you, and so… less of a leader downstairs because of it. He was a hard taskmaster-and probably even harder than the two of _us_ put together, and most certainly harder than needs be, I think. And yet…. he seemed blinkered to much of what the understaff were up too much of the time. Maybe he thought the strict sergeant major approach on all other fronts regarding work was enough to keep everyone in line at _all_ times. But either way, his standards slipped on that … more personal front with the staff, if you will- and he never seemed to kerb the _little_ behaviours that you and I know can explode into much bigger problems if we don't' try to rein them in on time, especially with the youngsters, and particularly with the boys at times, or so it seems. Hmm… Now I think on it… perhaps McCree resented being at the behest of Lady Flintshire almost all of the time, and not Lord Flintshire. I am not sure McCree respected her as the Lady of the house."

"Well, from what I gather, that may not have been an easy task for _anyone_ , Els, even at the best of times," Charles huffs out.

"Maybe," Elsie replies quietly. "But as you said yourself, a man cannot really serve two masters, and so perhaps McCree just ended up serving himself more often than not… And so… he never put the time in where it was needed. The hall boys and footmen weren't really taught to behave as young men should… they weren't held to account for their behaviour and so, if they felt they could get away with something in the shadows well, then… they would do just that. And… I guess it is because McCree just didn't have enough interest or commitment to having the _whole_ of the household running smoothly. Hmm…" She digresses as a small thought occurs to her, "You know, I would wager a fair share of filching happened in that house under his nose- and mainly from the stores, not the cellar, and it was because the Housekeeper couldn't command the lads over McCree- not at all back then, and she didn't control the store keys either- the cook had them- when she did have them- absent minded she could be that one...Hmmph, I guess that is yet another reason I always hold the store keys above Mrs Patmore having them, Mr Carson."

"It makes more and more sense all the time, although I hope you have not felt I would have let that sort of thievery go unchecked anyway, Mrs Hughes."

"No, of course not, Charles, but when I was first Housekeeper at Downton, how was I to really know all that? And besides your Mrs Dakin* was adamant that I hold all the keys to the house that weren't directly your responsibility. And so, it became my habit and it was certainly expected of me by her Ladyship. And it was also my right, that is all, and it has all worked well for me with Beryl in the long run, anyway.

Charles arms tighten even further around Elsie, if that were even possible without squeezing the breath out of her completely. Just for her equal dedication to quality in service. And just… for _her_ \- really.

"But, Els, what happened to you? It wasn't McCree himself I hope?!" Charles sounds out in a broken voice, forgetting for a moment that Elsie said he was a good enough man on the whole. Charles only thought in this moment is for how downright dirty he will feel if he had corresponded for all these years with a man who had actually hurt his Elsie-love. _Oh!_ _he will pay! I will track him down, that McCree. I will!_

"Noh! Not McCree. He was still the butler! Where on earth would he have had the time, Charles! I said he was a good enough man in his way- given less than ideal circumstances, I suppose."

"Sorry, Els. I ...I forgot… and no, if a Butler had time enough to fraternise with the staff in any such manner, many more great houses would have crumbled before now, that much is certain."

To anyone but Elsie, this may have sounded either nonsensical or like some shameless boasting on Carson the Butler's part, but Elsie knows it is just her Charles, calling it as he truly believes it to be, and Elsie cannot say that she does not see it that way more and more each day that she stands at Charles' side.

"Aye, you might be right enough in that. Hmm…Anyway, his name was Dunn, the Under Butler, and nasty piece of work he was too. Sly and oily, resentful that he would likely never become butler now that McCree had the charge for life, they were a similar age you see, and there was not a kind bone or thought for another person in Dunn's entire body it seemed. We may have thought our Thomas bad, Charles, but he does have at least some goodness hiding in him, and some sense of loyalty- and granted, it is a bit skewed at times, but it is there, at the end of the day- and he tries harder now to show it too, and live rightly by it. I wouldn't have cared to wager that Campbell Dunn would have bothered to save _any_ daughter of the Flintshire's from a blaze in the way our Thomas did in a heartbeat, no matter what his poor reasoning was for being on the Gallery the night of the fire in Lady Edith's room."

"You knew why he was there, didn't you? We never discussed it at the time. His Lordship wanted it hushed up."

"Of course, I knew! I don't live in a sack, Charles! I may have been more occupied trying to work out what on earth was going on between Mr Drewe and Lady Edith after the fire, but I was the one overseeing the cleaning of _all_ the rooms after the event. And what with Lady Anstruther leaving so abruptly the next morning, along with James- it was hardly difficult to put two and two together Charles! I have spent a lifetime knowing which rooms have been slept in, or _not_ slept in by a couple, as the case may be, and arranging all of their cleaning!" She laughs a little at Charles still thinking she is a complete innocent at times, especially after the week they have spent together so closely. _My sweet man._

Charles shudders, "Sorry Els, I still forget that you get to see all the … _grittier_ side of human relations with your work while I sail over the top of all the set dressings for the most part. Urrgh…" he shakes the inherent disgust from himself as if it were somehow clinging to his skin.

"Oh, I wouldn't say all the time Charles. You know your people well enough and see them at the best and sometimes their worst too."

Still, Elsie relaxes into him with quite some laughter. Any real fear she was feeling earlier from her dream has largely dissipated and she is just enjoying this closeness with Charles, knowing that he will unconditionally accept her whole truth. She is just so very grateful for the cuddles and the caresses that come so naturally to them both now, even though it is all only days old practice for them. _I love this new life,_ she smiles happily into Charles pyjama top. It smells of warmth. _So Lovely._ She is silent and just breathes all of his goodness in for a while.

oOOo

"I am not hurting your lap sitting here am I, Charles?"

"No, no. Light as a feather, I like you here like this… I like talking to you, Elsie… about whatever we need to… and whatever we want to… and not having to answer to bells and gongs in amongst it and never quite getting to finish any thoughts."

"Hmm.. I know… the feeling is mutual. And I don't mind telling you all of this if you want to hear it… but it is rather surprising all the other little things this does bring up. I guess everything is linked together in some way, though, isn't it Charles?"

"Hmm…probably…Still, Els, none of this really helps me understand why McCree could not or would not control his _own_ men?"

"Well, like I said Charles, he may not have known. I can't really say. And, not all leaders are the same- and certainly not all men view women in the same gentlemanly manner that you do, Charles. At Duneagle, it was really the housekeeper who kept the girls as safe as she could. And I do the same, I flatter myself to say it… yet I do not think I could be anywhere near as effective if you weren't holding up your side of it all too, Charles. Mrs Greer, she seemed to just manage to dampen all the small flare-ups all the time, but was not really able to control the whole blaze ever. Hmm... And, it was a different time too, I guess, Charles. For men and women…although much has stayed the same I guess…I don't know. But anyway, McCree… he just didn't work 'with' Mrs Greer. He lorded it over her. … I think he resented her as a woman with some authority- one who had control of a domain he could not touch… maybe because he always had to kowtow to Lady Flintshire's often unreasonable and impolite demands. I don't know… I suppose the rot always starts from the top though, doesn't it."

"Maybe, Elsie… But…I think, equally, it can be found at the bottom though…and in the root stock… so to speak. But, … are we not all creatures of free-will… do all of our own standards _have_ to be so corrupted or corroded by the people around us so very easily?"

"Not everyone thinks as you do, my love. Nor lives as truly. Not all people live by the goodness that is in their hearts, Charles… and after Green, and Dunn, I do sometimes wonder if some people really have any goodness born into their hearts at all. Hmph… Hmm…. Although that said, I have yet to see any child born without that love in them… so something must happen to them to change it. Why do some people end up doing these sorts of things, and others just never even consider it? Why do you think that is, Charles?"

"I don't know, Els," he sighs out heavily, "maybe some people get the goodness beaten out of them somehow. But really…I'll not excuse any of this sort of behaviour because someone might have copped a few knocks in life- we all of us have bad things happen, granted some far worse than others, but we all know how we should best be living, surely? The church teaches us, doesn't it? And we see how others treat their fellow man. We can learn to do right at _any_ time in life, I believe. And we can all live to our best standards- we can make the choice at any moment of the day to live to a higher moral purpose." He pauses for a while and they both silently process these thoughts before he continues quietly, "It is a _choice_. I do believe that Elsie. For I have seen men make bad choices, and quite intentionally so. And that is what Thomas has done _far_ too often over the years, for he _does_ know better, but he chooses to act selfishly and thwarts himself and others at every turn it seems, … but, I do hope for all our sakes he does continue to do better, like you say he is…. But…but, with the likes of Green, and this low life Dunn," Charles tenses in Elsie's arms at this new menace's name, "these men who act with such extreme… _cruelty,"_ Charles feels the word drip bitterly from his tongue, _"_ they actively make that choice, Elsie. They _let_ whatever darkness is within them be in control. I think they step over that line _quite_ purposely and they actively _choose_ to do this unto others. And…if we _are_ creatures of free will, then they could have, at any time, have used that free will to behave and act better- and so not hurt people. They _choose_ to do these sorts of things, Elsie. And may they _all_ rot in hell for it, _"_ he bites out harshly. And then he breathes in and out deeply for quite a few breaths to try to calm himself. "Where is Dunn now do you think?" Charles stiltedly clips out, for he is still feeling more outrage for this than he has probably ever felt for anything in his entire life, despite managing to sound reasonably calm in his words to Elsie so far. He figures she does not need him blustering about in his usual fashion right now, and he needs to somehow keep a clear head for her and all that she needs to tell him. But Elsie can feel him bristling beneath her.

"I don't rightly know, Charles. He left Duneagle years ago as I understand it. Well before the war. I don't know to where. Maybe he found a role as butler in another house? Maybe he went into other work. He would have been too old for war service I think- he must be close to our age at least. Anyway, that is why I didn't worry too much for any of our lady's maids returning there with the family for their yearly visits. I just had to trust that in the bustle of a grand family visit there would have been no time for much else to be happening amongst the staff below stairs as they worked so hard. Dunn was the worst of them… but even if he was there, I also knew from experience that he was unlikely to try this on any of the visiting staff. I guess that Dunn was always astute enough in his cunning to know that he had best keep his activities confined within that one household. I don't know. It was a risk though… and maybe now I think on it, I should have somehow tried to alert His Lordship and thereby Lord Flintshire to it… but maybe that would have just provoked Dunn to come and find me here. I just kept my head down with regards to it over all of these years. But he could be dead now for all I know."

"Well I hope he is," Charles forces out from between his gritted teeth. And then he breathes deeply again and strokes at Elsie's hair to try to calm again himself before continuing. Eventually he can speak again, "Still, Elsie, I have to admit to being a little shocked, really, by McCree's' lackadaisical stance towards the staff's behaviour… Huhh…" he sighs out as his heart rate slows down a little more, "I don't know, I guess… it is interesting how I … I never really do see how other Butler's run their houses first hand. In letters, we talk about wine and business, but not a lot else. Only if we need staff, but never the whys and wherefores- for often with any quick dismissals- well, the family will want all sense of scandal amongst the staff quietened down, as you well know. So, I guess that is why we never heard a peep about such things occurring at Duneagle."

"That's true. But really, though, Lord and Lady Flintshire were not ever attuned enough to their staff to even notice, Charles, not the way Her Ladyship and even His Lordship will often pick up when our staff are not well or unhappy. But Lord and Lady Flintshire, they tended to always be totally wrapped up in their own dramas, I suppose. But Charles, you must see that … that because you _live by_ the true goodness in your heart, and you have always been striving to maintain the best quality you can through your work, and you have been fair in your dealings with the staff, even with Thomas at his worst… well… that is what has made _you_ one of the best Charles. And it is why _I_ have stayed true to Downton, in my own way, because you made it a safe place me and for _all_ the staff, really, as best you could, men and boys and girls and women alike. Even for Thomas in the end, for Downton has protected him in a way too. And I have been true to Downton because of how you have worked _with_ me to keep our boys and our girls safe from harm as best we can, and _generally_ behaving according to all their better natures."

"Hmm, maybe. We have not always been successful though, not with some them."

"But we did always try, Charles. And sometimes… really, there can be no stopping some people, no matter what warnings you may give them. I tried with Ethel, but as with Lady Edith, or any of the young Ladies of the house, really, she had her own head and heart, but sadly for her, none of the resources of a lady of rank to help her when trouble inevitably struck."

"I do see that now, of course, Els, but because of that I still maintain that the best we can do is teach them how to say that simple two letter word- 'NO'."

"That is all well and good, Charles, and it is true that Ethel wanted what she wanted and made her choice perhaps thinking that the consequences did not apply to her, but equally, it might be nice to teach young men _not_ to insist upon these things of a lady to the point where they eventually are worn down and exhausted by it all and so they eventually give in to unreasonable demands- and they are demands that have _far_ smaller ongoing impacts upon a man than they _ever_ will upon a woman- and a girl will often give in just to finally placate that man, …and…and…" Elsie is truly starting to fulminate now, "and most  certainly, _all_ men must learn that it is NOT their right to have just whatever they bally well please or _think_ they should have it purely because they are boys!" She is almost seething with tightly strung raw energy now and Charles is feeling that all of her tension within his arms. " _Nor_ , come to think of it, should they _insist_ that everyone must believe things exactly as they do- For look where we end up when they do- in the middle of a horrible war- that's where!" But Elsie's vehemence suddenly drops and slows as she finds she must speak past a large painful lump that has formed in the back of her throat and she loses her head of steam and sounds stricken in the next moment, "And … and …women and children and the elderly they are all just _left_ behind to try to pick up whatever pieces they can, Charles, … from the whole ruddy great _mess_ of it all _-_ left to _try_ to clean up and carry _all_ of that dreadful grief along for everyone…" And the sadness of all the world's all too recent woes wells up uncontrollably in Elsie's eyes and falls onto Charles' warm and soft pyjama top.

"I don't disagree Elsie-love," Charles intones quietly, as he holds her a bit tighter, and tries to at least answer to the first part of her accusations, even if he cannot yet fathom the last of them. "Have I not tried to instil that ethic of respect and rightful permission in our boys?"

"Yes… I know, Charles- you have… and I'm sorry… I guess… I just hate always hearing that 'Boys will be Boys' whenever they step outside the bounds of acceptable behaviour. For it excuses them of their personal responsibilities far, _far_ too easily- and acts to absolve them of any guilt for their own actions in the long run… and … and so their standards _do_ become corrupted and corroded, as you so fear, Charles…and so they _are_ far lesser men than they ever could be because of it …and… and really,… it all just ends up hurting _everyone_ all the more in the end, doesn't it? That's how it seems to me –it hurts men and women alike. And yet, it is all s _oh very_ easily wrapped up and ignored all the time, by saying that the girls should always have known better….and should somehow have done something to prevent the harm that comes to them at the hands of irresponsible and sometimes downright wicked men. It is hypocritical in the extreme!…But…but really, it just hurts us _all_ in the end, Charles. That is what bothers me the most about it… it makes _all of us_ lesser beings."

Charles just stays silent. And as much as he knows this conversation started as a way to try to heal Elsie's pain of past the violations of two particular men against her and the lass she loves- whom they both love, really- it is somehow just so much bigger than all of that now. And so, he is forced to think on how he may have acted and used his privilege as a man with a modicum of power in society in unchecked ways in the past. He likes to thinks he is a man who has always maintained high standards for his own and all of his men's behaviour whilst they are in his charge… and that he has at least been fair. But, he is uncomfortable… for he has also expected things to just be done his way without question- and granted, they are work-related things… but he has never let _anyone_ thwart his aims, and only Elsie has _ever_ convinced him to expect different things of people or to change his mind about anything he has sometimes felt the need to bluster about like an oversized cockerel in a barn. And yet, in all of this now, Elsie is somehow even questioning the _worth_ of the whole war now, and perhaps even the ethics of any man who fought in it… and frankly... his head is hurting trying to fathom it all…. And yet, Charles has seen first-hand throughout the years of the Abbey as a Hospice, and through his work on the memorial committee with local families crushed by their losses, and all of the returned soldiers who were so changed by what they lived through- and he has felt most keenly that maybe the true cost of the Great War was actually far larger than anyone truly ever wanted to imagine or admit to. And despite these fleeting notions Charles has had, still he is confused by all these strained connections and he needs the steady presence of his Elsie to help order all of his thoughts about it.

"Elsie,… you make it sound like… I don't know,… that what the boys gave of themselves in the war … that it was somehow…worthless. I thought you thought them brave, like our Sweet William."*

"Not worthless, Charles… just _pointless_." she sighs out, "well, at least it seemed to be that way by the end. And there is difference, I think… for I will never say the war was worthless, Charles, because each of these men was _worth_ something very dear to at least one other person in this world. And so, they _did_ pay a price beyond worth- we _all_ did because they were sacrificed for _us_. And… I do know that they had to go and fight… for who knows where we would all be if they did not? And those boys who fought, I do believe they did do so bravely, and in the worst of circumstances. And so, … I really have to think that they tried to hold onto some sense that _what_ they were doing _was_ actually for the greater good in the end… and …and that they did what they did, they broke one of the commandments of life as a Christian, when we think on it- in the killing of others, even if murder is meant to be justifiable in the case of warfare , although , really, that concept has never really sat all that comfortably with me anyway- But still, I think that those boys did what they did to at least _try_ and stop the horrors and the hurts spreading any further than it absolutely had to. Humph… it is all so very complicated- this life. Isn't it?"

"Indeed, it is," he sighs and just shakes his head. All of this is making his mind feel somewhat detached from his identity like he is somehow swimming through muck and trying to grab hold of the tiniest pieces of patterned rationality in a sea of utter chaos. Elsie looks up and sees is consternation.

"Huugh…Let me try to put it this way, Charles-love. I guess, … once it all started, the threat had to be stopped _somehow_ , that is true. Humph…I guess….all I am really saying is that if men acted according to their better, more giving natures, if they aimed to understand and accept others more to begin with – right from the outset– tried to accept and accommodate more people's needs and rights in the first place, and acted not _just_ to suit themselves first and foremost…then… I would hope that we can avoid any more horrid wars in the future. But… I guess,… once we were in there fighting, as pointless as all of that loss of life became- when all of the original reasons for trying to hold onto certain ground became… just so _very_ lost in the mess of the battle- and as avoidable as I would have hoped it all could have been, I still have to hold onto the fact that in their scared and brave young hearts, those lads really tried to do what was right for others- even in _all_ of that mess that could so easily drag any good man down."

"It was an utter mess, wasn't it? Charles says quietly, fearfully even. "And there really has not ever been anything like it has, there?"

"Hmm.. from the bits and pieces I have read and heard, yes, it was unlike anything ever seen before."

"Horrible. Truly horrible… I can't even imagine it. But no man really talks of it, Elsie. And I do worry that we may never learn anything from it in the end. Huuhh..." he sighs out long. "I guess I have avoided all of these things in my life, Elsie. Military service used to be a livelihood- a choice for some men. Something to be proud of as a British subject to fight for King and Country… But this war, though… it just took _anyone_ it could get its hands on, didn't it? Whether they were prepared for the dangers and the sacrifice of warfare, or not... I was fortunate, in a way, to be so old, … but…but…. then …it all just felt so wrong that an old man like me should live on when all those young lads couldn't… and that I could not do my part. His Lordship felt it too- especially when he was just made to sit back as a parade piece and was not even able to _try_ to direct a way to get it all over and done with quickly. Hupph…" They sit silently for a while with their own thoughts, just holding each other. "But really, Els, at the end of the day, I just do not think that many men ever _truly_ want to go to war, not really… but they are convinced of its worth and necessity each and every time by their leaders. And they accept it loyallyand try to build their… well _themselves_ , really… as best as they can around that _version_ of being a man." Charles eyes have welled… for all that was lost in the war- all those innocent young lads. "And… I think that is why I worked myself sick back then, Elsie, because…because … I wanted… I needed to know… I needed those lads to know, somehow, in whatever silly little way that I could… that it would all be all right in the end… that the good life that they all truly would have wanted for themselves- it would still be there waiting for them when they all got home again. They deserved that. They should have had that." Charles swallows around the painful lump in his throat and his eyes have pricked with tears of hopelessness.

"I know Charles," Elsie says quietly, almost whispering and with heavy tears in her eyes too. "They should have always had that chance at life. They certainly earned it. And I do understand, Charles," and she squeezes him tight then moves one hand up to caress his strong neck. "They should have had that chance, all of them." She sighs out again to control her own voice better. "But, …like you said, Charles, from what we know now- it was the very worst of the worst of any war that has ever been- where…where the fight for a patch of dirt – which in days gone by might have been seen as simply a way to better feed your clan and keep them alive… it …I don't know… it somehow all got _lost_ in all of that mud-like… like some sort of pointless school yard brawl… where the original reason for coming to blows seems to have been totally forgotten and lost in all the mess of the battle, … and where…no one could _really_ claim a victory because both parties just received such a thorough whipping at the hands of some great menacing school master in the end, anyway. Everyone lost, Charles. _Everyone_." And she stops for a while for she is so choked up by it all. She swallows heavily, "That is just how it all seems to me- that we _all_ lost at the hands of something bigger than either side put together, and far, far bigger than any of those mixed-up sides in there could ever truly understand. And… I…I guess …I really felt it most keenly when we stopped in Hyde Park for a moment the other day- to remember the boys lost- at the Cavalry monument, remember?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"And I thought this even then, Charles, … It's just… I just… I sometimes wonder whether good old Saint George really _did_ vanquish the Dragon in this case… or did we just keep sacrificing all of our children to the monster for nothing and so that old serpent will still keep coming back for more because it cannot ever be appeased?"**

"Hmm…I know what you mean," Charles says pensively, "it sometimes felt like that to me as we worked on the memorial for Downton. But let's hope it was all for _something_." Charles finishes very quietly, for he does understand her- completely. Charles has never known any claimed victory to feel so desperately _hollow_.

Elsie continues quietly, "It sounded like chaos, didn't it, Charles?, from the wee bits we have been told. Total and utter mayhem.… and … I …just feel like we are all of us diminished by it Charles… _all_ of us… and what have any of us learnt from it all ? …Really?"

"I don't know Els. I really don't. But I guess we have to try to learn something from it, though, don't we? Otherwise it will always remain as pointless as you say it became and we will likely be doomed to repeat it all again. So, … I guess we have to keep trying to build something out of the ashes of it all- something worth living for again, don't we? And try not to live in despair when we think about it all, I suppose… But really, I just hope we never see the likes of it ever again."

"Hmm, you are right… But I don't fully know either, Charles. I don't know what we are meant to learn from it." She pauses for quite some time before positing a theory. "Maybe just that there is a very fine line that we walk between civility… and … and barbarism and all of its chaos and insanity. And I guess we have to learn to just _try_ and find a way to balance in that small space ... and that is all we may be able to do, so as to not let it happen again, … I suppose. Hmm… I don't know. None of us came out unscathed though, did we? Even if we didn't go to fight, or lose our own sons to it. Huuh ..." she sighs out thickly, "but you are right when you say we must always try to travel in hope, Charles."

"We do, Els. Now more than ever it seems. Let's just pray it is enough." Charles says very quietly- like the murmuring breath of a prayer itself.

oOOo

Elsie's eyes have been slowly dripping tears onto Charles pyjama shirt all this time- for all that the world has lost, for the heavy fog of war that still somehow shrouds all their lives, even after all of these years, and for the fact that even in their happiest times together, even in the brightest of the dawning light of a new day, shadows are still, inevitably, cast.

Elsie finally shuffles off Charles lap to lean over for a small handkerchief. She had no concept that they would wander off down this path of discussion. She does not mind. She senses it might be doing them both some good- to try to understand these mammoth things that have shaped their lives so indelibly, but that no one ever really talks about. She suspects some of it will always remain a mystery. But the war is a part of the memories they have, memories she and Charles have acquired over time together, just as much as Anna's trials are, and so it seems right to share their thoughts on all these things now that they have time to respectfully walk this strange pock-marked landscape of their past properly side by side .

"Should we organise for breakfast, Love," Elsie broaches, "I could eat something now… and I _will_ tell you all about Dunn, although there is really little that can be changed about all of that now, either," She says resignedly.

Charles head is still swimming with it all. He desperately wishes that there were clearer answers to explain all that was sacrificed in the war- to quantify what they all lost and why they even had to lose it all in the first place. _Was it all part of some much larger plan?_ _Really, God?_ But mainly, Charles is at a loss as to how mankind might find a way to have it never happen again. It seems all too big a knot to try to unravel, and that makes Charles feel decidedly … unsettled.

 _What is the point of acquiring all these memories if I can't work out what they all mean, Lord?_

He feels helpless in the face of it all.

Somewhat listlessly, he replies, "Yes, that might be the thing to do, Els. If you can't solve the problems of the world, at least eat a hearty breakfast to see you through the rest of the day, hmm?"

"That sounds,… somehow, …snidely philosophical, Charles," Elsie says somewhat wearily, but without rancour, "but I do not think you are necessarily wrong in saying it. We all have to polish our boots again each day and just get on, that is the way of things." She quirks a wan little smile his way. "What should we have sent up?"

oOOo

They remain in their pyjamas and robes, but decide to eat breakfast at the little table in their room, sitting at right angles to each other, as is their custom. However, as they settle in together, and having cleared most of their plates, it is not long before Charles's unsettled feelings rise again.

"Els, I know I sounded disgusted by McCree not protecting you better during your time at Duneagle, but the sad thing about it is that I feel quite keenly, that I failed in that duty too. I did not end up protecting our _own_ staff from similar behaviours or the dangers of that sort of unchecked… excess."

"Charles, surely you know that you have always protected and guided your staff in the best ways that you can– more times over than I can count."

"Well, not when it came to Anna though, did I? I didn't stop that!" Charles sounds disgusted and ashamed of himself for what he sees as his own severe dereliction of his duties- as he sees it- as protector of the House and all who reside in it.

"Well, how could you have even known? Hmm?"

"I could have stopped all that excessive frivolity in the servants' hall for a start!"

"Charles, the staff need some fun sometimes too. That is all it was at the time. No one could have pegged Green as a tyrant _just_ from that. And you just could not have been everywhere at once that night _. No one_ could have done more, Charles and that is just the very sad truth of it, Love." She pats his hand on the table top as his fist clenches an unclenches around the handle of his knife. Elsie continues in a soothing low tone, "Charles, it seems that bad men will do what they do, heedless of all of those around them, and heedless of all the standards that are held dear by the vast majority of people, Love. There is little accounting for it, but there is also just no point in blaming ourselves for it all now." Charles still looks grievously uncertain about all of this and Elsie rubs his right hand as it sits, now listlessly, on the table next to hers. "Charles-love, we are used to a _certain_ standard of behaviour from all our own charges, granted, but neither of us have ever been able to control all that comes into the house or what other people will ultimately do. And we were _both_ busy, that night with work and the entertainments. Maybe at least try to remember it as a sign of the goodness of His Lordship and of Her Ladyship, especially, that any of us were even allowed to enjoy that particular evening's entertainment at all, for many houses would not ever give their staff that. And …so, try to remember that there is still great beauty in the world from the likes of Dame Melba, even if there are also horrors in it too. And besides which, if anything, it was Lord Gillingham who should have been more astute about his valet... just as Her Ladyship could have been more astute about Miss O'Brien over time… but still … I guess these things grow in ways we cannot always predict. We could not have known what we would get with the like of Thomas and O'Brien thrown into the mix together, what with them colluding in all sorts of underhanded behaviour together, nor them being at such severe loggerheads much later on too."

"No… I suppose not. I guess at least we _tried_ to control these things, Els, or at least guide them effectively. It has felt like a losing battle most of the time, I have to admit. But, I guess...once we both knew of Green. I suppose we did try to keep Anna and everyone else safe form his harm again, didn't we?" Elsie just nods quietly but with deep sadness in her eyes. "Huuhh," he sighs out long, "sadly, Anna was right, and it is to my eternal chagrin about the British Justice system's flaws it is, -but after that long drawn out travesty of justice that Mr Bates had to live through previously, we really could not go to the police for her, could we?"

"No, Charles," Elsie quietly states the simple sad fact of it.

"And… I do know it was because of what it would do to Anna's good name… and the risk with what Bates might do… and the talk about the house as a whole, but still, Elsie, it rankles me to this very day- and then she ended up going through it all publicly in the end anyway!- and in an even worse way than any of us could possibly have imagined."

"I know Charles, it will always vex me too. And I hate to think how many more women Green hurt before he met his just comeuppance- and all because a woman will not be believed in a court of law, or by most of society in such circumstances."

"Huhhh," Charles sigh out again, almost dejectedly. "It was such a pity His Lordship was called away to the Levinson's at the time. I still think he should have known before he left. He may have at least had Murray onto it in some way. His Lordship had asked me about Anna you know. He saw she was not her usual perky self- as we all did. And he really could have done much more I think, if I had known the whole truth of it at the time I think I would have had to have mentioned it, Elsie."

"But Charles, Anna still needed her privacy, you must understand how this always makes a lady look to others and just how shamed she feels by it- Anna would have been scorned and blamed in the eyes of the world if it became common knowledge - as wrong and as unfair as _all_ of that is."

"Not with his Lordship, Elsie! Never with him. He knows well enough how to be discreet. And well… He has mentioned a few things to me over the years, about his time fighting the Boers. He knows very well what _some_ men are capable of, he told me … and, Lord above! - _**I**_ should have guessed at what had happened to Anna _much_ earlier myself! It is not as if I didn't see at least the aftermath of such things happening to the women plying trade about the Halls when I was a youth." Charles feels a shiver run over the top of his refined sensibilities once more. "But His Lordship, Els, he said he saw some damnable thigs happen around the fields of war himself, and, remember, he even asked Bates what was wrong with Anna, even after she had denied anything was wrong when His Lordship had asked her it directly, so he _must_ have sensed something was wrong. I think he could have guessed at it, even then- and Mr Bates along with him too. Men-of-war see the worst of mankind, Elsie, and they may not talk much about it, but neither do they forget it."

"No…. no. I don't suppose they do at that," she says quietly. "But nor can a woman ever forget the shame it brings upon _her_ for the world to know of such things- any more than the pain and humiliation and abject _fear_ is ever truly forgotten by her when all of her power is so violently ripped away. But still, Charles, Lady Mary _did_ do her best in convincing His Lordship to at least let Mr Bates stay at Downton and Thomas go to America instead, and then through her demands on Gillingham to be rid of Green."

"Well, it was the best that could be come up with at the time, I suppose. But still, Elsie, this is really the domain of men to use what power they have to stop this sort of thing. I wish it did not have to go to Lady Mary at all."

"Well, it is a different take on men's responsibilities than I gave, but you are right nonetheless, Charles. But remember that Lady Mary, she is not such a delicate little flower, and she was far from an innocent about the various ways of men by that stage, of her life, Charles. Plus, she is close to our Anna, and she already knew that something very wrong had happened- just as we all did really. These things are not really that hard to see, even though we all want to deny what a brutalised woman may look or behave like. Our Anna is stoic and made of stern stuff, but _no-one_ can be a completely closed book when something like this happens."

"No, you are right there."

"But Lady Mary, Charles, she knew, I think, she somehow instinctively knew what had happened to Anna- and like the rest of us- we all tried to believe it could not be possible- at least not at Downton. But really, Lady Mary _had_ to have known of such things, Charles, after Carlisle, I believe. She understood what a ruthless man might have been capable of- if push truly ever came to shove, and she was not an innocent in the bedroom either, even back then, as we both know." Charles shudders slightly. He still dislikes thinking too much on Lady Mary's severe youthful indiscretion and the scandal that followed in the wake of that Turkish diplomats death. "Hmmm... you know, Charles, …I really do think that Carlisle would have at least struck Lady Mary, and much more than once I would wager, if they were ever to be married."

Charles shudders again in his seat, "Please don't remind Elsie… it was never easy knowing she was going to face that man alone when I refused to go to Haxby. …And …I think in a way now, perhaps His Lordship actually wanted me to go there with her- to see her all right in a way- I think he sensed the … _instability_ of that man's 'gentlemanly presentation' to the world.… But I just could not do it to myself, Els, not even for Lady Mary... Not even for His Lordship's sake- and in a way it shames me, if I am to claim some sort of protective fatherly feeling for Lady Mary, and yet I was still willing to let her risk her own safety with that man to save my own sensibilities… and to keep what I had at Downton." And he tightens his grip on the hand of his very best friend in all the world at this thought. "But his Lordship was always uneasy about the match, Elsie, extremely uneasy, that much was true. But we both of us, could…just… do so little about it all really."

"Maybe what you did was the best thing you could have done to make Lady Mary see though, Charles. You did make a stand for her in a way- by showing her how beneath _you_ it would have been to work for such a man, and she was sure to see, eventually, that Carlisle was beneath _her_ too- beneath any woman or lady, or true gentleman, to associate with, really. And I know how she respects your good opinion, Charles and wants... well Lady Mary really seems to _need_ your support. You could not have made a clearer stand about your position and concerns for her… not really. You let her know it was not anywhere _near_ all right- but just not in so many words, a chagair."

"Hmm… maybe Elsie… Thank you for believing that of me, a chagair…and, … I suppose that is why she lashed out at me then as well, I guess… little Miss Mary never did like to be found to be in the wrong in anything." Elsie huffs out a knowing little laugh at this. "But thank you for understanding me, Elsie," he says quietly as he squeezes her hand, "and Thank God for Mr Matthew really. He was the only one that could have kept Lady Mary from that man in the end. And I still maintain, Elsie, that with Anna, it was the domain of good men like the Master Crawley's of the world, and His Lordship in this case, who can actually wield their power and put it to good use in this world, much more than some of us can- it was for _those_ men to try and help Anna in her hour of need."

"Well, never a truer word spoken perhaps… but… maybe I have a slightly different take on it to you."

"How do you mean? His Lordship would have done whatever he could, for Bates as his loyal batman in war, and as his valet, Els. A valet holds a very intimate place in a nobleman's life, Elsie, just as a lady's maid does in a Lady's life… and besides, His Lordship would have done whatever he could have for Anna as that man's wife, but even just because Anna has been one of his most loyal and dedicated members of staff over so many years.. but _mainly_ because Anna is a lady, who deserves whatever protection His Lordship can reasonably and possibly give to her within his own Estate."

"I know that Charles, and if he could have been in Downton then, I no doubt would have told you of Anna predicament much earlier too, and it most surely would have been the better option, for I have no doubt that with His Lordship's connections, he could have found something on Green that would have seen him locked away for a good long time- if not for what he did to Anna- then for something else and that at least would have kept Green away from other women for a good amount of time."

"But what do you mean, you have a slightly different take on it, Els."

"Well Charles, it just what I said before, and in a way it is how you put it too… that it is for _all_ men to be responsible for their actions and behaviours, and to support the people around them to be their own best selves in the long run too…like what you hope to teach young lads through the playing if cricket I guess… But then, in the end, Charles, it all just… _was what it was_ , sadly. His Lordship just _couldn't_ be there to help… and really, when I confronted Green in the boot room, Charles- it was just because _something_ just had to be done- by _someone_ at least."

Charles ripples tensely beneath Elsie's constant touch, as the fear for her that it all engendered in him at the time comes rushing back like spike of ice down his neck.

"But even when I overheard you then Elsie, and finally twigged fully as to what had happened to our Anna, I told you- I told you most _clearly_ that it was not wise for you to go storming in like Boadicea before the Roman masses! You were not equipped for the fight against him, any more than she was." He sounds suddenly broken again despite his indignation, "You…you could have lost everything Elsie," he rasps out, "he… he could have _hurt_ you… maybe even killed you." His words catch painfully in his throat at these words and he finishes very quietly, "You should never have taken him on like that, Elsie."

"But sometimes we just have to fight the battles as they are presented to us, Charles, like all of those poor boys in France, and that is all we can do." And she pats at his side softly from where she sits, trying to comfort him. "Charles, I never thought for a moment that Green would _actually_ try anything on my old bag of bones, or that he would actually risk murder- not there. I always knew where I was, the halls were busy… and as it was you were obviously near enough to have heard it all."

"More by accident than by design, Elsie!" he feels the same level of outrage and helplessness rising within him at this that he did at the time – when he had first confronted Elsie about her actions back then. "You should not have risked yourself in that way! I said it at the time. And it is still true now! You could have been _hurt_ , Elsie… and… and you are _not_ a bag of old bones., Elsie-love." She cannot help but snort out a little sound of incredulity at this, but Charles sounds broken with his fear for her, even now when no danger is present. "You…you are a beautiful woman, Elsie, no matter your age, and men like Green- they … they  will _take_ whatever they can, and whenever they can- because… because they have  absolutely no respect for anyone, but most especially for ladies, for they are always _far_ too cowardly to really take on anyone that might actually have a chance of physically defending themselves or hurting them back." And his voice has been rising in force along with his indignation about the whole sorry affair. "And so, _no,_ Elsie – I am _far_ from saying that 'boys will just be boys! '– this is evil in the hearts of men given free rein- pure and simple- Elsie! And you cannot predict what will happen, nor hope to control or stop it if such _men-_ if they can really must be called _men-_ if theydecide to fully unleash their fury upon any other person… and you certainly cannot do it all on your own, Elsie! Even Boadicea rallied what meagre troops she had- and so should you have… you should have come to me _first!_ It was my _place_ to know of it as head of all our staff. But more so, you should have just _trusted_ me from the outset before you put yourself, o _r anyone_ else in the house, in further danger from him!" Charles is breathing heavily now, and his face has reddened fiercely as he tries to control his raging emotions and the hot tears of hurt and helplessness that are prickling in the corners of his eyes.

"Shhh… Charles, I know. I know…" she almost sings it out like a lullaby, quietly, as she uses one of her hands to stroke lightly over his hand and the other rubs around onto his back, trying to soothe his frayed nerves about all of these issues that have come between them in the past. "I do know now that I should have come to you from the outset, Charles…and I do trust you and your skills, and of course your discretion, completely. I do. I am sorry I did not do that from the start, for I do know that having you on my side did help action things to keep Green away from Anna as best we could… and I really I could not have supported Anna as I did at the time without you right beside me, even in secrecy… I know that. I do… and I am sorry it took that huge row for us to finally work together on it…to try and make it right…but,… I … I _am_ eternally grateful that you did overhear me in the boot room, even if I said I wasn't at the time… but I _had_ promised Anna at that stage- an yes, it was against _all_ of my better judgement, I'll admit it… but I could also see her shame, Charles, … and her point about Mr Bates and the risks he might take to defend her honour if he ever found out it was actually Green…. But ..but Charles… at the time… maybe … maybe if you know how I was when I was at Duneagle … maybe you will at least understand _why_ I took it all upon myself that way and why I confronted him by myself when I had the chance… and that it wasn't only me defending Anna as if I really was Boadicea outraged for her daughters sullied honour- although that was also a reasonable charge of yours against me at the time , but it was just so much more than that for me, Charles…. "

Charles is huffing sharp, tense breaths out of his cheeks and his hand is clenching and unclenching into a fist beneath Elsie's small grip on the table, trying to calm his memories of that time and the awful arguments he had with Elsie over all of this. He still feels outrage at not being called upon straight away by Elsie to handle this most grievous of offenses against one of his staff, even when he knew, he did know- _he knew-_ instinctively it had happened, and even his Lordship knew it, really. They did know that something was terribly, terribly amiss with their Anna- and his fear and seething anger about it all still remains- bitter and heavy in his heart.

As Elsie's caresses continue to calm him, he finally releases another long breath and manages to state as calmly as he can, "All right, Elsie… I can accept that you held off telling me because of what Anna demanded of you at the time."

"She did demand it, Charles, against all my protestations otherwise, she asked me to _swear_ it, but please believe me when I say that I was desperately uneasy about it. And as it was it was never truly an oath I had _any_ hopes of being able to keep. I _am_ sorry I did not still involve you discreetly from the outset, I should have known it was the best way to handle this- together with you by my side, as usual.… But…but… I think my own experiences at Duneagle propelled me down the path of trying to do it all on my own. I felt I needed to do it that way at the time. But I am sorry, truly. It was a grave mistake, I do recognise that now, for these evils _cannot_ be fought by any one person alone, you are _most_ right about that.

Charles releases yet another long and steadying breath. And lowers his voice to the most impassive tone he can enact, but does not quite yet feel. "All right Elsie,… but you need to tell me absolutely everything now- everything that happened at Duneagle… right from the start. And how exactly you did end up managing to avoid what Anna had happen to her."

Elsie breathes out heavily. "All right… I will." She sighs out long again and keeps hold of Charles steadying hand, rubbing it soothingly for a little while before she begins her tale." At Duneagle , Charles, it wasn't sudden like with Anna. It was a build up over time with Dunn. He was maybe more like Carlisle in a way- outwardly respectable… but very manipulative and cunning. So _very_ cunning. He used and manipulated others against me, you see, the hall boys, footmen- whoever he could hold in fear or in thrall. And, I hate to admit it… and Lord knows why I should have been like this at my age then, for I was not without some mental fortitude by the time I was thirty odd years old Charles- not with having lost everything so young and gone into service- and on my own for much of that… but Dunn, he…" She draws in a steadying breath as she finally makes this admission to the first living breathing person ever, "he very nearly _broke_ me, Charles." Charles instinctively holds her hand tighter and reaches to rub her forearm. "He…he bullied me. Harassed me constantly. Found every moment he could to put me down. He used other staff to keep watch on me- like spies, he had the most fearful of his little foot soldiers always throwing snide and disgustingly lewd comments my way whenever they passed me by." Charles is starting to visibly tense up in his seat again as he listens to the nightmare unfold. "He tried to have my work faulted in front of McCree whenever he could, and only ever when Mrs Greer was not there to say otherwise, and of course none of the younger girls ever said a word otherwise in the face of McCree and _his_ fully assembled regiment of footmen and his revered lieutenant under-butler all lined up around him in- all of them in their stiffened finery. They were an intimidating sight to _any_ young lass isolated out there on that huge estate with no place else to go, and most especially the girls would say nothing in front of Dunn, lest they be next on his list of victims. and…and it just got worse and worse, Charles. That last year at Duneagle," Elsie swallows hard before continuing a little quieter, "in that last year, Dunn, … he would take whatever quiet chance he could, and not even when on show to his little soldiers, which somehow made it all the more real and dangerous then, because then I knew it was not just to put on a big show of his power to his underlings- it wasn't just all bluster anymore, but … he…he took to pushing me into alcoves or darkened doorways, or even just in the middle of an empty gallery whenever he could, to intimidate me with his size and strength."

Elsie's eyes have welled up again in the telling of it all. Charles has moved on his chair and drawn Elsie automatically into his lap and surrounded her with his own great size- but his arms are gentle and his hands soothing as he smooths her hair back from her face and he looks at her with tears misting his great dark eyes, but he does not speak. He lets her say it all, knowing full well that he is the only one to have ever heard this full story of Elsie's past and all of her pain before.

She continues, in an even smaller voice, if that were even possible, and it breaks Charles' heart to hear her so broken and feel her so small within his arms. _Like a little rabbit. Treat her gently, Charles. Gently, now._ "And in that last year, Charles, those sorts of encounters became more and more frequent, and more and more… _physical_ each time… his hands groping at me, sometimes even ripping at my dress so that I would have to mend it when I could… Hmmph, I can tell you truthfully, that there _was_ some stitch work I did actually shed some tears over at times, Charles… and…" Elsie's tears are steadily dripping down her face with the heaviness of her years of silence, "and… now I think on it, it seems the only thing … the _only_ thing that that stopped him getting any further was that my corset was too hard to tear at in the time available during these… _encounters…_ Hmmph… maybe that is why I have held onto to wearing it for so many more years than all the other ladies in the house." She quirks a little smile at herself, for this. _It has kept me upright all these years,_ she thinks sardonically. _It has kept me going_. And then she sees that Charles, despite all of their shared intimacies this week away, and the full nature of this particular conversation, is actually blushing somehow through his silently dripping tears at the mere mention of a word about her corsetry. And Elsie cannot help but hiccup out a laugh- just because Charles is who he is- and she just loves him ever so much for it. She gives him a small kiss on the cheek, because he is here for her… and because life is inherently ridiculous and it can all still make her laugh. _My man…_ _Life is still good_. She sighs out past of the lump that has remained in her throat, really since she woke earlier in her darkest hour. She coughs lightly to try to clear it, "Anyway Charles, I suppose I have never really understood why Dunn singled me out from all the other housemaids. I was older than most of them, not especially pretty, and they really all seemed to be much more delicate creatures, and the easier targets compared to me. I always thought I was built quite solidly when compared to all of them… I don't know… maybe the head housemaid at the time had too much protection and that closer connection to Mrs Greer, and maybe the younger housemaids and scullery maids and the like somehow had me to protect them… in a way… so he went for me as the one in the middle who didn't seem to have anyone really looking out for her. Or maybe he just saw something in me that just _annoyed_ him- something he just didn't like… I don't know. I cannot ever claim to understand all that his mind reasoned as a way to justify his own behaviour. But, over time, Dunn somehow made me almost start believing I actually deserved it all. Every bit of it." Elsie feels Charles' grip around her tighten infinitesimally. "And… he got me to a point where, …where I doubted everything that I was doing, and I was afraid of every hidden corner, afraid of my own shadow it seems. I feel ashamed that I lost so much of my own strength back then… that I let him take that away from me… for I never said a word, Charles," and she releases a harsh sob at the memory. "Not once. And that was not really who I had ever been before that- not even as a much younger lass in service, not at all. I always had more of a mouth on me than some- and I _would_ speak up when I had to."

"Now, that is how _I_ have always known you to be, Els," Charles affirms for her in his quiet and loving way.

"Hmm… But I actually seemed to completely lose my voice at Duneagle, Charles." Her voice sounds perplexed at this , even to her own ears "And …I just never told Dunn to stop , I never said a _word_ \- not to McCree, not to Mrs Greer, no one. Not one word. And I don't rightly know why…. Huuh… if I never _fully_ believed I actually deserved it, which I can't have, not really, for I would not have come back from it at all if I truly _did_ believe that. But, … perhaps…I do think… that…that maybe I thought to take it all on myself so that at least the smaller , more vulnerable lasses would not be targeted… but I am not so sure… I just … lost my voice, really… lost sight of who I was… lost all of my energy for life it seems, and I could not seem to think straight anymore, Charles … so all I did was try to keep my head down and I just worked- _hard_." She pauses to think on it all more closely than she has really bothered to in years, or ever really, for she has spent more time pushing the ugly thoughts and memories away rather than embracing them and walking slowly through what they all mean to her as a person of free and independent means and will. "I don't know, … but, my best guess is that maybe I was hoping Dunn would get bored tormenting an animal that was just playing dead all the time really-I tried to make myself smaller and unnoticeable and not worthy of the effort to even pester because the sport was not entertaining enough anymore. And…so… I just… _lost_ myself."

and at this Elsie splutters out a wrenching sob into Charles' neck as she throws her arms around the surety if his shoulders and weeps once more into his neck. And after a lifetime of struggles, she does at least know that it is not for any weakness or wrongness inherent in herself, as she had once come to believe at the hands of Dunn. It is really just for her _self_ and all of her grief for that time of loneliness and fear that she lived through- all finally allowed enough air to make a sound and be shared in safety and with the security of knowing that there will be ongoing comfort at the end of it all.

Charles returns to the only things he knows he can do right now to help at all. He holds her, and strokes over her face and hair with his big hands and rocks her and shushes her soothingly as his own big round tears slide down his face in grief for all of her pain and fear. And as her tears keep tumbling, he finds himself humming – just some small random and quite nonsensical range of notes, but low and in that rumbling way he has, that can calm even the most distraught bairn. And she hears him and squeezes her arms around him tighter than ever for his care, and then moves to tuck her head fully under his chin to feel his sounds vibrate onto the skin of her forehead and the tune resonate around his big heart and into her ear at the top of his great chest. And he hums, because he has nothing else he can say to make it all better, no truth or even a platitude that he can possibly share, for he can only ever half imagine what it must feel like to lose sight of yourself so thoroughly, having never been so undermined or quite so isolated from absolutely everyone. Nor has he ever been in quite that dire level of danger from another person in the world- never before- not in his entire life. Never has he had to live in that much fear. So these small sounds of wordless comfort are all that he has to give her in this moment.

That is all.

But for Elsie, it is enough.

It is enough.

oOOo

And so when she has calmed a little under the rhythms of his love- as it hums with new life from his chest, Elsie speaks again, "Really, Charles, all that saved me from Dunn taking that last step, and doing what Green did to our Anna… it… it was just dumb luck. Pure dumb luck. Just as it was horrid and dumb bad luck for her – just poor timing for her and a tiny bit of good timing for me- that is all- just one single deft move from Mrs Greer at just the right moment- and that is all that did it. It was sheer luck more than anything else- like any of those boys in the trenches at any moment- some had bullets come their way, and others just got lucky and they were missed and there is not much accounting for who or why it was one man and not another being graced with that stupid level of dumb luck. But I am ever so grateful for it, Charles. Even now. Huhh…" She breathes more clearly again. "Anyway, I do know now that Mrs Greer had seen all of it building- and she must have sensed the shift in me from when I had first arrived back in Argyll at Duneagle. I was a much brighter lass back then. And now that I look back on it, she _was_ actually keeping watch over me. Huuhh…and I know you may not believe it now, Charles, but I really did become very sullen, especially in that last year at Duneagle. I just put my head down and worked- _so hard_ ," she chokes out "I barely spoke…and… and I seldom smiled, that much was for certain."

Charles' voice is thick with grief and more unshed tears, but at least it is now somehow under his greater command. "Well, I can believe it now that you have told me all this, but I wouldn't have for a second when I first met you, Elsie, for you were as sparky as I have ever known you when you first arrived at Downton, maybe a little nervous, but that is common for anyone coming to a new workplace from what I have seen. But the hard worker in you was ever evident."

"Perhaps I was. Sometimes that first couple of years at Downton seem such a blur to me, Charles. I moved up from just a housemaid at Duneagle to a head-housemaid and then a housekeeper all in the space of one year, really. Quite a rapid promotion in anyone's book, don't you think?"

"Indeed. But you were always right for it- always more than capable, Elsie-love."

"Thank you, Charles," she takes the compliment gracefully. "Hmm… But I guess in that first instance I was just so _relieved_ , really- to be… _free_ …and that somehow brought me back to myself. That, and the hope even before I arrived at Downton, and back to Yorkshire, which I was so happy for,…that I would now actually be somewhere a bit safer. Perhaps the thought that there were the young Lady Edith and Lady Mary already running about the house… and another on the way… I don't know, for some reason it seemed that that might mean the house was a happier one, for Lord and Lady Flintshire had no children as yet when I was up in Scotland. Anyway, when she picked up on the possible opening coming up at Downton, Mrs Greer put me forward to her Ladyship on their annual visit, just before Her Ladyship was even with child, it must have been. Anyway, Mrs Greer she recommended me to move back to Yorkshire once more…. And… I guess I just thought that the staff at Downton would be better checked in order to protect the young Ladies of the house, and also Her Ladyships' sensibilities during her confinement of course. It was a notion I had, more than anything, but I believe it was well borne out by reality- once I got here, and once I realised the sort of ship that you and his Lordship were actually running. But… all I _really_ knew when I first arrived, Charles, is that Downton had such a different… _feel_ to it . It has always felt so different – even when compared to Nunnington Hall*- and I was not unhappy in that particular house. But… I was immediately so very much happier once I was at Downton, it is true." Elsie almost sounds a little dreamy against his chest now. Her speech is thoughtful, but full and languid somehow. "I don't know if you will ever understand that difference Charles, since you just grew up with it all on the estate. It is like… it is just… in the _threads_ you – so completely- woven into you, Charles-love, so very closely, that you can't even see it anymore.. like it is just part of the whole picture of you… But, …coming from somewhere else, that didn't have that same… _substance,_ right down in the very warp of it… maybe it's the soul of the house…now I think on it… well… I felt it, even if couldn't really name it at the time. …hmm… Downton was just warm and safe – always, Charles." and she gives him another loving squeeze from within his own warm and safe arms.

And Charles realises that Elsie has just paid him the greatest compliment anyone has ever given him in his life- and it hits him like a wave of summer sunshine as he steps out from the deep shadows of this conversation for an instant to process it all. And he knows that it is worth so much more to him because it comes from the most heartfelt of places- from his one- his Elsie-love truly sees him and believes this of him, and accepts him wholly as such. And so despite how much his heart has felt stretched thin by all that they have been discussing this morning, he suddenly feels like it is full again and bursting open with pure and unadulterated light at her words for him- because she really _does_ know him – better than he could ever have hoped she would. He kisses softly onto her head in thanks for the blessing in his life that she truly holds her ever tighter to try and hold the memory of her words within his heart- to weave it into a newer and even fuller picture of Charles Carson, from Downton Abbey, Yorkshire. _Life is just so good with Elsie by my side,_ he knows it _._ And now it is for him to keep listening to Elsie closely, and trying to know her just as deeply as she has come to know him.

"Tell me everything, Elsie-Love. Let me know it all," he whispers into her hair."And Elsie sighs with a mixture of gratitude and deep contentedness for her own life at Downton, her life woven together with Charles Carson's- by her side, as she holds him firmly and continues with her tale.

"It has been a good home to me, Charles - the very best I could ever have hoped for, really- for my lot in life, that much is for certain. And I was lucky. I have just been very, very lucky- I do know _that_ \- and I know it more clearly now than ever, my love. I don't doubt my choice to stay at Downton anymore, as I have told you at the gallery the other day. Hmm… But anyway, whatever it was and still is about Downton, Charles, it all seemed to revive me- when I got back to Yorkshire again that time- it was like I could finally _breathe_ again."

He just holds her for a while. Somewhat overwhelmed and not really knowing what to say. More than ever before, he feels fundamentally justified in the life, _his life_ , that he has given to Downton, and through that, what it has inadvertently given to his Elsie-love . _It is a_ _truly_ _Great House. It has all been worth it._ _No regrets. None._ And now he can give his life fully to Elsie. And she actually wants it of him. All of it. There are no words for that sense of belonging. It just _feels_ right.

After a time of quiet togetherness and their silent prayers of thanks for one another just being there, Charles eventually latches onto that other part of Elsie's history that he really knows only snippets of information about. Maybe there will be happier memories of her youth to be found in these other years and spaces, he hopes.

"I had almost forgotten you were in a house in Yorkshire before Duneagle, weren't you?".

Elsie's forehead is nestled comfortably into the side of Charles neck and she relaxes more into telling her history- all the little secrets and nuances she has never really let on about to anyone. "Nunnington Hall- and for all of my younger years in service actually, yes. And that was when I originally walked out with Joe Burns, but then the chance came up to go back to Scotland, and too a much larger house too, and… although Joe and I enjoyed each other's company, he was not showing any signs at all of making more serious overtures to me, and so I went back to Argyll. It seemed the more secure option back then for a better position in service in the long run and I did like the work." They both sigh out a little heavily that it has not been borne out by reality at either Duneagle, or even now at Downton, what with all the changes since the war. "Hmm… I guess I had been well over fifteen years in service by then. Maybe I thought to go home to Argyll to settle in those roots again, I don't know…. Anyway, it certainly seemed more of a possibility to advance up the ranks at Duneagle and I thought it might help me to recapture … well, I don't know what, really. Mam and Da were long gone by then, of course, and Becky was married and moved away of course, still in Lytham St Ann's and well settled with the children all in school and old enough to be helping in the shop. I knew I would miss my odd visits to her and my nieces and nephew by not being still in Yorkshire, it was always going to be much harder to cover that distance from Scotland… but …. Maybe at that age I suppose I also half-entertained some notions of meeting someone who _would_ actually want to marry me and I might have settled back In Argyll to have bairns of my own, still …I wasn't really that driven by it though, for I figured if Joe Burns was not going to ask me… well, … maybe I was not one to be seen by men as the marrying type. But… I don't know, maybe a girl never really gives all that up so soon, and I was at an age where… if the right man _were_ to come along…well, but it just didn't happen, and really, I _was_ getting past the best years to be having any bairns anyway, even by then. But… in truth,… it was because I had had some good experience from Nunnington Hall and I liked the work and my being able to control my own money. I had worked well and proved myself capable in my time in Yorkshire, and so I guess I had hopes, even then, for becoming head-housemaid soon, and a Housekeeper eventually. And I thought Duneagle might be a chance at that, being a much bigger estate and one with a proper ancient peerage attached to it. … But, unfortunately, Duneagle and Argyll, as it turned out, never offered either of those options to me." She sighs out long again. "But in the end, when things seemed at their worst with Dunn, I had good word via Mrs Greer that the housekeeper at Downton was looking to retire soon, and I knew that it was the best chance I would ever get for advancement, and by then I just _had_ to get out of Duneagle, Charles. I knew Mrs Greer had been able to catch Her Ladyship's ear and recommend me on their yearly visit back in '95. And Lady Flintshire never gave two hoots about which staff came and went through her doors- so long as there were enough of them there. And so, I was lucky- and I _knew_ it. And so when I got to Downton, Charles, I knew it would not have served me to dwell in the past and how I had been so scared that last year at Duneagle. I had too much work to do to prove myself again and it really only mattered that I felt a bit safer. Hmm… and I had still written at times to Joe Burns, of course, and we were always friendly, and so I let him know I was back in Yorkshire… and that is when he finally proposed marriage to me- in a letter… But, I… I think, that even though I knew he was a good man and he would have treated me kindly…I think … after Dunn… I just did not want that… that sort of closeness… not with _any_ man… not that I haven't wondered about it – what might have been, many a time, as I have told you in the past. …But really, at the time- I was also just so _h_ _happy_ to even be moving up into the head-housemaid position, and with the possibility to becoming Housekeeper in time. I was over the moon about it, really… and just _soh_ happy to be able to do my job without constantly looking over my shoulder, and I really didn't want to give all that up.

"You _were_ a very chipper lass going about your work those first months, I do remember that," Charles says with a nostalgic smile in his eyes. _Who would have ever thought back then that you would end up here today, Charles old boy? Uncommonly lucky you are too, m'lad._

"Well _,_ these sorts of opportunities in a house like Downton, they do not come up or everyone, Charles. It was a good thing and I well knew it. I was going to be secure for life in work and with a pension and probably a cottage afterwards, and really, it was still so much more than Joe could ever offer me, even though he meant well for me in a life with him. But really, … Mrs Greer did me the best turn of my life, putting me forward to Her Ladyship when she had the chance to – she spun up a bit of a story that I was still keen to see more of the country again, but also that I knew Yorkshire well, which I did, at least that small part of Yorkshire around Nunnington, and that I was a good worker and would not be kept interested at that lower level position at Duneagle for long anyway- and none of that was entirely untrue, now that I think back on it… but I guess at the time, I was actually focussed a little more on survival each day at Duneagle- trying to avoid that vile little snake, Dunn… But anyway, it all worked out, for I think even then, Her Ladyship saw that Mrs Dakin* … was getting on… and she would be needing to usher in her own new housekeeper before too long. It just all fell into place really- and I was just _incredibly_ lucky."

"And me too," Charles says with conviction, for he knows how incredibly lucky he is for Elsie to have ever come to Downton at all- that she is even alive, for it could have all ended in an instant for her too. He is blessed and lucky to have had her stay by his side as his friend for all of these years. _Sheer dumb luck it is._ Charles feels a stab of tears in his eyes at these thoughts - of how easily it would have been to never have had any of that with Elsie, and certainly not the wonderful life he has with her now. It all could have ended so differently- and worst of all, so very tragically for Elsie. He kisses her firmly on her head as she still rests it on his chest, listening to his heart. But then Elsie feels Charles suddenly tense and ripple once more with energy beneath her- a shuddering spasm.

"What is it, Charles? That is all the story of Duneagle now told."

"I'm sorry Elsie, I can't help it. I keep thinking if this little weasel Dunn and how easily he could have changed your life- ruined it-… and _our_ lives… but especially for you, Elsie-love." He sounds broken and enraged all at once Charles jaw is clenched and he is forcing his next words out, every word scraping his throat on the way past the fear and grief he feels for all that has been and all that so easily may never have been."Els… I …I just want to track him down and wring his unworthy little NECK for ever even _thinking_ about thinking about hurting you! - Let alone for what he actually _did_ do to you! I feel like I can't stop shaking… just…such … _rage,_ Elsie…" he rasps out between gritted teeth. "I…I don't know what to do with it all." His hands all this time have been tightly clenched and quivering intensely where he hold them at her waist. She can feel them trembling as he tries to control the raw emotions running through them. "And… and for … for Anna too… but for you, Els... especially you," he bites out haltingly as he just holds her even tighter to himself to tries to calm this entirely uncommon feeling writhing in his sinews and coursing so hotly through his veins.

"Och, Charles, my love…" she says soothingly as she strokes across his furrowed brow. "My honour was never _actually_ besmirched…and as it is, Dunn is likely dead and gone now anyway, having never learnt a worthy lesson in his entire life, of that I am sure. And as much as I would have understood Mr Bates potentially having taken vengeance on Green for what he did to Anna, part of me, for some reason, cannot bear to think that _you w_ ould visit such violence upon _any_ man, Charles, even a despicable little wormlike man as Dunn. And Anna was the same with her Mr Bates. I do not think any woman _truly_ wants their man driven to that form extremity, not ever, Charles. Not even in the defence of her own honour. No more than any woman wants to see their man or their sons marching off to war, for would that not also make them men who break a fundamental commandment? Mr Bates did right to kerb his baser instincts back then, as hard as he struggled with it, and I did often have my doubts as to his innocence, and that's no lie - you know all of that… and I _know_ at the time I was not willing to actively condemn the man for feeling he needed to defend his wife's honour in that way, but…really I am so glad now that he did not do it, for it would have diminished him in his heart and soul, Charles, and in Anna's eyes and heart too- especially after all that she had already fought so hard to prove- that he was innocent of such behaviour in the past. It really would have broken their love for each other in the long run. Please tell me you see that, Charles?"

"Haaahmmm, …" Charles eventually sighs out a long heavy breath, and as always, discovers he has found some measure of calm just through listening to Elsie's lilting tones and her wise counsel. He strokes her hair again and calms even further as he continues to hold her gaze that has been pleading with him this whole time for him to understand her words.

"Come, Charles, " Elsie stands and draws him to his feet. "Come rest with me again." And she guides him to their crumpled morning bed and they lie facing one another on a shared pillow atop the white sheets. And they share in each other's warmth, hands clasped tightly together and fingers caressing over the bumps of veins in the backs of their ha nds. Eyes searching each other's for the truth.

oOOo

Charles continues quietly, if still somewhat dejectedly, "Huuuhh….I know … I know you are right, Elsie, but it still does not stop a man feeling he is somehow _less_ of a man- that he could not protect the ones he loves, nor make others pay for their injustices against his family."

"I know that Charles, and I do understand it, perhaps better than you know… because… that is one of the reasons I _did_ take that risk in confronting Green the way I did in the boot room. But, … it was even more than that Charles, because although I may have acted on the spur of the moment back then, but now that I think on it, I really think I did it for _myself_ \- because… I needed to have my voice heard again… I needed to finally give _it_ free rein in front of the evil of one who was _just_ like Dunn, so that a man like that can be held to some sort of account for their behaviour… and …and …to show that I would not let Anna, or really, _myself_ ever be trampled by the likes of a lowlife like that ever again. I needed Green to hear that he could not maintain that power over anyone he pleases. That he could not ever take _all_ that Anna is, - all of her goodness- or even take all of that power away from the likes of me- that he did not have anywhere near as much control as he liked to think." She pauses at length and breaths heavily as the memories of that exchange with Green, which still remains desperately unsatisfactory for Elsie in so very many ways, courses that same tension through her very sinews yet again. Charles and Elsie both remain silent and just hold each other and look deeply into each other's eyes until they can see the latent hostilities they hold for these men dissipate somewhat. Elsie, finally calms enough to continue. "Huuhh… …But… sadly, I think Green always knew that we could not go to the police… and I don't know that I ultimately really achieved anything much, apart from putting myself in harm's way again, like you said, Charles… But.. I… I just _needed_ to do it.. I needed to know that I hadn't just run away in fear from it- all of those years ago. I needed to know that could stand up and not roll over and play dead to a man like Dunn, like I once had done. Hupph! It seems I may be just like your Lady Mary in that!" Elsie snuffs out at the irony of it all, and she can see Charles face quirk up in a small smile at this. "But … but … I just thought that Green needed to hear that not all women are such easy prey for him- that we can fight for ourselves as best we can…that we have power over our own lives…and that he may have had his evil way with Anna, but that does not mean he ever _really_ took away all that she is- he _never_ had total control over her, not completely… And our Anna… she did know that in the end… she has refused to be a victim to it all… and so, she kept _herself_ , she did. And I have never been prouder of _any_ lass – not ever, Charles."

"You are right…" he murmurs thickly as he looks into Elsie's eyes with pride and with unshed tears of both pain and gratitude for both these of fine ladies in his life. "She never lost hope did she? Well, not for long anyway…maybe… just lost sight of it in herself for a while. And she has always lived by the love in her heart, don't you think, Els?"

"That I do."

"And, well … now I think on it Els, is it not true that a man who gives in to the darkness in his own heart, like Dunn or Green did, he has actually relinquished all of his _own_ real power already- handed it over to something… _else_ …don't you think?"

"Well… I do suppose that helps to explain why we see these types of men as _low_ \- they _are_ the lesser men, really- they have diminished themselves by giving into this evil, haven't they?"

"And they will pay an eternal price for it- just maybe not one we will ever see as justice in this world…if what the church teaches us is right. Perhaps that is what we need to hold onto, Elsie, if we cannot seem to conquer these things in this lifetime." Charles sounds so tired… like he is carrying an ancient weight upon his shoulders.

"Hmm…maybe," she says quietly, and they just breathe together in rhythm for a while. Eventually Elsie gathers her thoughts again "It does all make me think of that other monument we walked past in Hyde Park though, Charles- after the statue of St George and the Serpent, the Wellington Monument Of Achilles. Because… well… I have to wonder why the ladies of Britain chose _that_ to commemorate a victory in battle… you see…because I do know he can be simply seen as the ultimate warrior, but really, Achilles actually fought in rage, for all of his losses, didn't he? He fought with pure wrath because of his hideous grief when his loved ones were killed… and he behaved in dishonourable ways because of it, didn't he?" Charles just nods. He knows the story well. "What with dragging Hector behind his chariot to trample his dignity, even in death…. But in the end, it did not get Achilles anything he wanted, did it? It brought no one back from the dead to him and his grief was not at all assuaged by his vengeful acts, and so, … he also died without love in his own heart- did he not?"

"Maybe…" Charles drawls out thoughtfully. " _Sooo_ …you are saying that… fear of grief and pain – that is really our Achilles heel then?"

"I…I think so. I think that is what I mean…and …and I did that myself, really. I do know what that absolute wrath feels like, Charles. I felt it keenly when all of this was going on and I acted very poorly because of it, for I actually wished as much harm on Edna when she threatened someone else I care for in Mr Branson. It was all at exactly the same time as Anna being hurt … so much was going on then, Charles. Just so much," and now Elsie sounds weary again, like she too is carrying the weight of all the world. "It was all such chaos in my mind… and…and … I still do not condone what Edna was trying to do to Mr Branson in the midst of his own grief for Lady Sybil… but …I…I threatened Edna in a way that was most unbecoming, and its intent was as bad as anything that happened to our Anna, or that Dunn ever threatened me with… and it shames me to even think on it now, to think I would threaten something so …so…demoralising on another human being, no matter what their own ill-conceived motivations and actions were…and, to be honest, I felt enough rage that the threat was not entirely an empty one used as a bluff or a show of strength. It was not right of me, Charles… it was … I don't know… it was all of the grief and pain and helplessness I felt for myself, because of Anna, and for Anna, when I just knew I was quite unable to really help her at all through this… and then also my fear for what would happen to dear Tom at this other selfish woman's hands- all of it together- it just made me _cruel_ , Charles. Very cruel. I don't know… I don't like thinking in that space- that I can actually be like that too."

"Darkness lives inside all of us, Elsie, men and women alike," Charles says very softly, and without accusation, for he feels that darkness of grief and pain and rage for all that has happened to dear Anna and his Elsie-love. Elsie is silent for quite a while and her brow is deeply furrowed. Charles tries to smooth her worries away with his thumb pads. "I have wished horrible ill on people myself at times, Elsie-love, like Griggs when I was first feeling so betrayed by him and by Alice. I willed for him to meet any number of painful deaths at the time, and for many years, truth be told. We all of us think and do things we are not proud of, Elsie… especially when there is conflict all around us."

"Hummmf..." she sighs out long and heavily again. "Aye, I suppose you are right," Elsie says quietly, somewhat defeated, "that is a great sadness for all of us, isn't it? But still, I _was_ less than Christian in threatening such ill upon Edna… and I used my place of power above her in a cruel way, for surely there could have been another way?"

"Sometimes these things aren't so clear to us at the time, Love," Charles murmurs quietly- not condoning and not condemning her in any way.

"Hummph... I don't know…" They rest in silence for a while longer. "Anyway, Charles, I guess the fact that I could be that way too, and Lord knows I sometimes think it was only the threat of the hangman's noose around my own neck that stopped me from picking up a boot shaping stick and walloping into Green with it until he dropped and never got up again" Elsie breathes out heavily through gritted teeth to try and calm the potent desire that still exists within her to have done just that, even now, "… but even so… all of it… how I was with Edna… how I felt in the presence of Green… it has shown me really… that…that if we lash out in those times when we hurt the most, in grief and pain like Achilles did- trying to enact vengeance on others in order to find some sort of justice in this world- then …we are actually the ones sacrificing _our_ true strength, aren't we, Charles? And then we _ourselves_ become diminished in the action… and then that truly _is_ pointless, isn't it? … Huuhh…" Elsie feels that she has within her an endless stream of woeful sighs for the world that just need to be released. "Does any of that make any sense, Charles?"

"I'd wager it all makes as much sense of these blood-stained and grief-stricken times as any other ideas I have yet heard or thought of, my love." He sighs out wearily as he continues to pet Elsie's hair back from her face.

"Hmmm…" she replies thoughtfully, feeling weary with the weight of all of this herself. "But, even so, does any of that even make sense of how I still needed to know I had some proper strength to fight still within me, Charles- to at least _try_ to make an honourable stand against Green ? For I still felt I needed to do that…to… to _prove_ to myself that I was not just hiding behind the safety of _you_ and of Downton for all of these years and so avoiding all of these trials in life because I was just too scared to face them all, and that I was not just …doing what Green did really… and only lashing out against a person with much less power in the world to fight back, even when compared to me- with how I threatened Edna… But… can you understand why I confronted Green now?" Charles just gives her a small nod and moves to caressing over her tear-stained cheekbones with his thumbpads, comforting them both. "Huph… even though, I know that in the end it did not move Green _in the least_ , and so _I_ have had to swallow that little bitter pill of knowledge too." She sighs out long again at the complexity and unfinished nature of it all, even now. "But … I guess… even Boadicea ended up having to drink her poison to remain who she really was though, didn't she, Charles?" Elsie asks rhetorically, but Charles nods his understanding all the same. "So… really, in the face of inevitably losing everything, anyway Boadicea…she was at least the one to choose it for herself first, wasn't she? And - so…so…no one _actually_ took her power from her in the end- did they?"

"No, Love, and that is _truly_ brave" Charles says quietly as he caresses Elsie's face and looks deeply into her soulful and perceptive eyes. _My Elsie-love._

"And maybe, Charles, I think it was because Boadicea knew that some men, some people, will _never_ be stopped, and I do know that now myself, Charles… nor can these types of people like Green ever be reached, not even with a heavy whipping it seems. And so, sadly , they will remain ever unwilling to change their ways… But still, ….with what I did in confronting Green, Charles….It was because I needed to know that I at least _had_ that meagre choice still … and a _voice_ \- in all that happened to me when I was once so powerless myself… and…and I just wanted to be Anna's voice for her too , when she was not yet ready to do that all on her own just yet. Do you see?"

Charles is silent for a long time as big round tears continue to roll slowly down his cheeks- but he keeps looking his Elsie right in the eyes- seeing all the colours of her anew once more. She is a wonder to him. "Yes Elsie, I can see all of that," Charles manages to choke out as he squeezes tightly to her again. "And I think it is it is like those boys knowing they needed to go fight the war, even if it seemed certain they would lose everything in the stand. They had so very little choice, really…but they most of them still chose it bravely."

"Aye. That they did. Like our sweet William." And more tears silently fall between them for all of that innocence now lost.

"But… but Els, what I see as your strength in all of this it … it is just _love,_ really. It is the love in you Elsie. It is _in_ you… and it has always been there and it never really left you, even in your darkest hours –that love and care you have for others. And that was always going to be the only thing to fight any of this with for Anna, wasn't it? Not boot shaping sticks or guns and metal or the like. Love is all that can really prevent the tyranny of these types of men prevailing, isn't it?" Elsie's eyes affirm his truth. "So maybe the church is right about all of that too … Hmmm." He just breathes for a while, trying to stem some of his tears. "You really are my own little Celtic Boadicea… aren't you, Elsie-love?" He says a little more brightly and quirks one of those sweet smiles at her that he keeps only for her as her fingertip presses into his chin. "Standing up with love for your girl, and even Mr Branson, as best as you could at the time, and for yourself and you never really lost yourself in any of that did you? Not truly. And so, you _have_ made a choice not to live in cruelty in the end... My one Elsie-love." And he kisses her firmly and with his proud and love and tear-filled eyes sinking into hers. He continues very quietly, "Els, all I ever wanted you to know back then, when we fought so bitterly over your somewhat ill-prepared march unto the fray with Green," he huphs out a tiny bemused sound at his various visions of Elsie striking forth with all her might- no matter the situation, "Elsie, it was not that I thought you could not or should not fight, for our lass, or for yourself, as I now know you were doing- but… I just wanted you to know that you did not  have to do it all _alone_ … and that I was _always_ willing to fight on your side, Elsie… you never should have felt that you had to face _any_ of that evil alone… because you really didn't have to- not even back then, …and you never will again Elsie-love… Just like Mr Bates has always stood by his Anna…I stand with _you_. I have never, ever thought of you as hiding behind me… over _anything_ , Elsie. I could never have held you there even if I were stupid enough to have wanted to or dumb enough to have ever even tried! I am just … _always_ … by your side, Els… I am on your side- and with all of my love there too- to fight these things that we sadly, and inevitably must fight. Please know that, a chagair - _always_ \- my Elsie-love." And he caresses her soft cheek, rubbing away her slow tears.

"Oh, my sweet Charles. My lovely Charles," she whispers thickly as she caresses his face tenderly in return. "I do know that, most surely." She looks into his honour-bound and love and grief- filled eyes, her voice is still shaky with all of this emotion and confusion and pain that they have trudged neck deep through on this strangely bright and dark morning in their room above the sea. "Now more than ever before, a chagair," she finishes hoarsely and then kisses him on the tip of his nose, and then to each cheek and then the centre of his brow. "Hmm…" she sighs out tiredly now resting her forehead against his, "now more than ever, Charles… and my life is all the better for it… Life is so very good, really though, isn't it? She asks rhetorically. "And Charles, …just… don't you ever let men like that Green or Dunn squash that same goodness and love in _you_ , … for I know the bitter taste of letting that lesser part of myself free…and Charles-love, just don't do it – don't ever lose sight of your love and goodness not even in your grief and rage against them- not even for my sake- for that is an Achilles heel that could trip _any_ good man up, don't you think?" she says with a droll smile at her own completely mixed up metaphor.

He gives her a tiny smile of understanding, and a glint of brightness has returned to his eyes for her wit- that can always make him smile- no matter how small and somewhat confused it may be.

"I could never lose sight of my love for you, a chagair," and he kisses her tenderly on the tip of her nose.

"Thank you, my Love." And she rests her tired head against his and their grief and love filled hearts beat solidly against each other's chests as they hold each other tighter still within this dark but slowly calming sea of their shared memories. "Hmmmm…well…maybe that is what we have to learn from all of this mess from my past and from what happened to dear Anna, Charles. All we really need to know is how … to just to _hold_ onto that love in our hearts... and… and maybe that is all we can end up taking away from the shadows of the war that still surrounds us all as well …that we need to remember that there is still love out there in people's hearts, and that life really can be so _very_ good, in spite of everything, Charles. Anna helped me to see it in the end … she never truly gave up hope. That is her strength… that, and her love for Mr Bates- throughout _all_ of their trials, they always had that… and so do we, my Charles. So do we."

"That we do, a chagair," Charles affirms, choking the sounds out past the lump of anguish that has been sitting in his throat since they started walking this strange, obscure and opaque path out of Elsie's nightmare together.

Charles dots gentle little kisses all over his beautiful strong lady's tear-stained face- his lady who has sifted through the ashes of the ruins of a world filled with war and darkness and cruelty…to find herself again and then to lift herself, and others, into the light of the world once more.

As they hold each other tightly again and drift ever closer to sharing further morning rest, and some rest for their shared mourning, Elsie feathers away his own residual tears for her and for the world-for _all_ of their pain- and Charles knows.

He knows.

 _Even with all of these harsh and horrid memories, old boy._

He knows.

 _There is always great love to hold onto._

 _There is that._

 _There is love._

 _There is love._

 _And Life is good._

 **oOOo**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Ooops! Looooong!**

 **Sooo,…there it all is! This chapter did become rather more epic in its scope than I ever envisioned or intended!**

 **Perhaps I should have called it** _ **The Tao of Chelsie!**_ **;P**

 **And to think this fiction of mine started with the influence if Virginia Woolf and her exploration of the great scar of the Great War in** _ **Mrs Dalloway**_ **(as so many Modernist artists did in the early 20** **th** **century- Eduard Munch, the Dadaist, the futurists, Woolf, Yeats, T.S Eliot , the anti- War Poets like Wilfred Owen, etc, etc). And so, here I am 100 hundred years later trying to make sense of the nonsensical yet again.**

 ****** **And now** **!**

 **Tear me to shreds if you feel the need- (with evidence to back your claims, please- and I am happy to discuss such things via PM if you want), because I well recognise that I have possibly just pulled off a massive JF-esque plot/character manoeuvre of the magnitude of the Becky/pauper nonsense that I have been so vocally eschewing throughout this whole lengthy fiction of mine! I have been critical in the** _ **extreme**_ **of how DA played out, and so I should be prepared to cop the same for my own work if I am going to throw it all out there in the public eye. However, I would like to think that I have shored up enough canon gaps for this to ring true, but by all means, help me to learn if you so wish it. I shall brace myself for the onslaught!**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked at least some of it.**

 **BTW-** **Huge thanks must go to a former DA fan fiction writer, Kissman, whose 2014 piece "All Things Pass" really got behind Mrs Hughes reactions to Green and the whole Anna 'please stay silent stuff.' Kissman's work influenced my thinking about Charles' supposed ignorance of the event in canon and helped me work out all of these plot machinations of mine. Anyway- go and read that older DA work- it is quite brilliant.**

 **CECECECECE**

 **And now to** _ **slightly**_ **lighter stuff!**

 **Re. My Elsie younger years Head Canon** **-**

" _ **You know me Mr Barrow, a woman of mystery if ever there was one."**_ **And I have certainly found Mrs Elsie Hughes to be just that! I entered this fictional world because, well, who doesn't love that stodgy old bean Charles Carson! But Elsie Hughes has become increasingly important to me as it all went along. But, really, now that I think on it, I never would have been so upset about the whole Becky/pauper/cooking plotlines and character disruptions if Elsie didn't actually mean one hell of a lot to me to begin with. The writing process is what has helped me to recognise her true worth on a much larger scale and I am very glad of it. And so, I needed to write in some back-story for Elsie to help me accept aspects of her behaviour at different times, especially that Boot-room scene and the earlier one with Edna- which were both** _ **very**_ **uncomfortable pieces of viewing for me.**

 **Now, given my own apparent and desperate need to continue to see Elsie as an independent and wise woman with a strong voice, it has, as you will have worked out from this chapter (and I do hope it was all readable enough!) it has led me to take the actual timing of the walking out with Joe as something that happened well, well before the Downton offer, when she was a much younger woman in service in a smaller Yorkshire house (Joe** _ **is**_ **a Yorkshireman in the series). I think Joe would have walked out with her sometime in her 20s, but, as it never looked like he was going to get off his butt and actually ask her to marry (maybe Elsie only attracts the glacially moving types!), Elsie decided to take another job in a much larger house elsewhere- and Duneagle was just too good a site to pass up using since it is likely in Argyle and it of course appears in DA canon. Plus, the real Inverary Castle, where filming took place,** _ **is**_ **actually in Argyle.**

 **So, the way I see it, service has always provided Elsie with a secure home since she was orphaned at about the age of 13-14 years (much like Daisy and this could explain Mrs Hughes affinity with the homesick youngsters). Elsie would have finished her basic compulsory grade school education by then- having also done piecemeal work in Argyll to support both ailing parents before they died. Then, Elsie and her sister had to go out and make their way in the world on their own. Elsie could be older or younger than a '** **right** **-in-the-head' Becky, it does not** _ **really**_ **matter to this fiction, although Becky as slightly older than Elsie is my preference at this stage. I imagine them in service in the same Yorkshire house together for a time until Becky is courted and marries at about 20 years of age and moves to Lytham St Ann's to run a shop with hubby and pop out some nieces and a nephew for Elsie- hence the photo of children on Elsie's sitting room wall in the early seasons- which** _ **magically**_ **disappeared in about S5 -along with her status, power, voice, any decent hair styling,** _ **and**_ **the very well-kept and often nicely embellished, albeit somewhat old fashioned, dresses Elsie once owned– which, of course, was all just prior to the Becky/ pauper debacle of a storyline in JF canon Grrr!—Just ….Grrr!- and ever after Grrr!**

 **Strangely, Elsie's background is one that I was not even expecting to uncover when I started writing this chapter, or at all in this fiction, really, beyond what I have just stated as my basic background head canon for her. But these things just unfold in strange ways when I get Charles and Elsie** _ **really**_ **talking, and then I have to try to make it all fit as best as I can with the bits of JF canon I that I actually** _ **do**_ **accept!**

 **I also hope it turns out to be more believable than the hogwash story that Elsie kept her sister's existence and her pauper status somehow secret from Charles for 25-30 odd years of living in each other's pockets. I think I have a chance at it with my little concept/conceit in this chapter with Elsie's rising above being down trodden by a Green-like character in her distant past – and that she has worked and tried very hard to forget it and also keep it a secret- because that is just what women did, and still do, re. this sort of violence and even gas-lighting styled dominance over their lives. And I do also think that it can happen at any time, and to older women just as Elsie was, and not just dizzy and unsure-of-who-they-truly-are-yet younger and possibly weaker girls/women. I equally think that people can reforge themselves after such events and be strong people again. Elsie has always been strong enough in my eyes to manage such a feat. But, do feel free to accuse me of major JF-ness character and plotting anomaly-styled nonsense if you think I have royally stuffed this all up for Elsie! I am willing to PM correspond about anything to do with this fiction of mine.**

 **Please Note:** **I do solemnly promise to make the rest of the Honeymoon right again for our heroes, don't worry. I am quite committed to the HAE (Happily Ever After) that is a requirement of romance as a genre.**

 **Other Author Notes of possible interest**

 **On Places:**

 **Nunnington Hall** **-**

 **horror of horrors! At the time I propose Elsie was there it was privately owned by the son of a Liverpool merchant! (Filthy Middle-class nouveau-riche! ;P ). I chose it because I think Elsie new that her best move career-wise if the chance arose during her younger years, was to follow the older, titled money. Hence, justifying the move to Duneagle in this fiction of mine.**

 **wiki/Nunnington_Hall**

 **On symbols, myths and motifs:**

 **On Boadicea** **- **

**here is the quick history of the flame haired Celtic Icenic tribal warrior woman who fought for her daughters' honour when the bloke in her life made some pretty poor choices as to whom he should go and trust.**

 **/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/Boudica/ .**

 **In my** **Chapter 25- Reflections** **–**

 **Charles and Elsie go past this huge statue on the banks of the Thames on the way to the Victoria Embankment Gardens- Boadicea lives on in our culture to this day!- not those nasty-pasty Roman generals that** _ **done**_ **her wrong- so maybe she won out fully in the end?**

 **On St George and the Dragon-**

 **mythology-** **this covers various versions of the story that Charles and Elsie would have been well versed in. I especially refer to the nature of sacrifices made to appease a beast threatening the livelihoods of a people.**

 **wiki/Saint_George_and_the_Dragon**

 **On Achilles-**

 **wiki/Achilles**

 **wiki/Achilles'_heel**

 **Again, my Charles and Elsie have had good enough educations f** **or the times they grew up in and I maintain that these two would both be quite at home sleeping in Mrs Patmore's kitchen knife drawer.**

 **Which leads us to….**

 **Charles and Elsie's education:**

 **Elsie most likely would have gone through a Ragged School Union set up for the poor (operating from 1844-1881)- courtesy if the good old 7** **th** **Earl of Shaftesbury I have previously referred to in this fiction, and Charles would have been educated via the Grammar Schools Act of the 1840s- at Ripon Grammar- which was probably founded by the 6** **th** **earl of Grantham in this fictional world anyway.**

 **In the mid- late 1800s, Apparently 95% of elementary school-aged children were actually attending some form of formal education, even if it was just Sunday school via the parish church during this time, and well before it all became compulsory or free – for who really wants to send their child 'down the pit' if there is another option that could possibly lead to a better life outcome? It seems funny to think that formal compulsory education is still less than 200 years old though, doesn't it?**

 ** wiki/History_of_education_in_England#Nineteenth_century **

**Now, I also maintain that Charles and Elsie have had years' worth of ready access to Lord Grantham's extensive library of Philosophy and all the family's novels- and had no other real entertainments for their small amount of rest time- so they are both quite well read. Also, the Greek classics** _ **were**_ **taught in schools in the 1800s- even at quite young ages. I would think that Achilles is a well-known morality story for people of Chelsie's era- why else would such motifs be used so extensively in memorial statuary otherwise? These stories were part of the surrounding culture for these people, as much as the morality stories of the Bible each Sunday would have been.**

 **On the symbolism of character name choices:**

 **Here is some other interesting flower symbolism, given I have had Charles and Elsie often refer to William Mason as their Sweet William- and this was actually unplanned when I first had them referring to him as such – go figure!**

 **Sweet William Flower meaning** **: Gallantry + Grant me just one smile - which I think equals what he was in war, plus all that he ever really asked of Daisy in the end.**

 **Daisy flower meanings** **\- Innocence and farewell.**

 **Gah! I may cry- did JF plan all this for me?**

 **Mrs Dakin** **-the former housekeeper of Downton is in deference to the work of Edward Carson, fellow and favourite DA fan-ficcer- yet again! : )- and I was getting lazy with finding former housekeeper's names! However, a quick name derivation search has revealed that this name can mean 'Day protection' from the Welsh/Olde English origin, or 'Beloved of Jehovah' from the Hebrew/ Biblical origin of David- with the capability to bring down Goliaths with a small sling and a stone. So, I like the connotations anyway! Surname/Dakin **

**McCree-** **the name is not particularly auspicious in the context of my fiction, but I have started down this path and it is still interesting to note it. It derives from an ancient Gaelic male name "MacRaith"- son of grace, prosperity, or favour- from the Celtic "rat"- luck or fortune- so I guess these latter meanings feature in this back story for Elsie- just not from McCree's hands. Surname/McCree **

**Other names I have chosen due to their meanings and derivations**

 **Campbell Dunn** **-the slimy Under Butler who trod down our Elsie in my head canon from 1893-early 1895- ish at Duneagle in my head canon = crooked mouth + Dark**

 **Mrs Rhona Greer -** **the Housekeeper at Duneagle = wise ruler + watchful/vigilant**

 **** Now here is something **_**truly**_ **uncanny \- unless JF planned it this way and JC and PL just what? …Knew it instinctively about their characters perhaps?**

 **Elspeth Mae Hughes** **= 'God is my oath' + nurturing mother + fire/ inspiration- and never a truer name given to a character, I would argue!**

 **Elspeth and Hughes** **both have Welsh /Irish origins and linked to Galloway area- (so fits with Elsie's Argyll birthplace).**

 **Middle name Mae** **: Well I did not plan this, but Charles and Elsie marry in May in my head canon merely because I wanted a summertime wedding for them- still, I like the little loop back effect- as always.**

 **Also, Mae can refer to the fifth month of the year from the Latin Maius- or the month of Maia- the Greek mythological Goddess- daughter of Atlas who carried the weight if the world upon his shoulders. Maia is the goddess of increase and growth, and also known as an older mother type figure and nurturer.**

 **Mae can also be diminutive of Margaret which = 'Pearl'- I kid you not!- this stuff just keeps fitting in with my little story patterns after I have written these things on a total whim!.**

 **But also, Mae is a diminutive version of the name Mary- who of course- you know… supposedly gave birth to Christ, but the Hebrew Miryam can mean 'sea of bitterness' (a la BLM I would argue!- but sometimes Elsie too), or it could mean 'sea of sorrows'- which also fits where Elsie is 'at' with all things philosophical in this incredibly lengthy chapter of mine. But Mae is mostly interesting as a diminutive form of Mary because I now keep finding all these similarities between Elsie and the BLM!**

 **Charles Carson** **-**

 **Charles is from the Germanic 'Karl' and can mean simply 'man' or possibly 'army/warrior' name/charles **

**Interestingly,** **Carson** **is a surname of Scottish origin derived from a locational name with ancestral links traceable to King James IV of Scotland Surname/Carson**

 **Carson** **\- First used in the Scottish/ English borderlands of Dumfriesshire – kind of near-ish to north Yorkshire- sort of! carson-family-crest **

**Middle name Ernest** **= Earnest- of course! And = resolute (but also in my thesaurus, earnest has the synonyms of: sincere, intense, deep, solemn, serious, strong, heartfelt- so yes, Charles is all of those things!).**

 **But anyway,** **Charles Ernest Carson** **could literally mean "Resolute Man of Place" – which I find quite fitting for our favourite Butler who is so woven into the threads of the greater Downton tapestry.**

 **And even if his middle name were** **Edward** **\- (which I had at some time thought his name was) that would mean - fortunate guardian/ guardian protector.**

 **And so if it were C** **harles Edward Carson** **, this would roughly translate as "Fortunate Guardian Protector + Man/warrior of Place"—or thereabouts!- Does this not just describe our happiest and luckiest of men down to a 'T' !**

 **Love it!**

 **I just think it uncanny that I wrote this work and then afterwards found the names to be so fitting for it- and even for the JC and PL interpretations of JF's characters that we got to see in canon.**

 **oOOo**

 **++ So, I do hope that my take on Elsie's background seems reasonable to some of you out there and may help to explain some of the many emotions we see her trying to work through and/or contain during that poignant scene in S1 Ep 4 with her one true friend, Mr Carson, but still with many secrets necessarily kept hidden deep inside her heart at that point in time.**

 **On the Genre of Romance:**

 **One other interesting thing that this incredibly self-indulgent and personally cathartic writing experience of mine has brought up- and actually it was well after I had first drafted this mega chapter- is from my current studies in Creative Writing- and specifically the tropes of the Romance fiction genre. I inadvertently hit upon so many of these themes in my intensive parsing of the characters of Elsie and Charles in this fiction (like links to Classical Greek myths and big archetypal stories that influence humans on an almost universal scale (i.e: - our fear of being alone, lonely, unloved and somehow intrinsically worthless and our lives devoid of all meaning—you know—just the small things! ;P). I just find it interesting that it was quite instinctive for me to shape this story in the way that I have, and yet I have now learnt that it may have been** **borne out by current literary theoretical thinking and understandings about the expectations we have of human story-telling and by the nature of the genre of romance and what it offers both the writer and the reader through the sorts of cultural symbols and imagery it tends to use.**

… **Although, arguably, with Charles and Elsie traipsing about the streets of London, access to these myths via the public artworks they visit kind of made this inevitable for me! And then the poetry and other artworks of the day influenced how I wrote each chapter for them.**

 **T.S Eliot, poet, author and literary essayist of the early 20** **th** **century was the one to describe the reality that everything we write is always based, to some degree, on something that has come before us. Even Shakespeare's core storylines are not at all original- what was original was his ability to get into character motivations and the human condition so deeply and to write some stunning, original and memorable turns of phrase that we still use all the time today…. And a heavy bit of patronage from Royalty didn't go astray when it came to making it big as a playwright in London in the Tudor age! And so, his work lives on as hugely influential, where other writer's works did not. And so, really, all I am saying is that nothing exists in a vacuum and our works are always going to be somewhat derivative of some other work somewhere. if literature were not socially and culturally situated, we would have nothing to pin our comprehension of any given text upon. And, it is because of this expectation for understanding that we get annoyed and notice when the genres we are accustomed to having play out in certain ways are handled incorrectly or just plain poorly and with no respect for reader's expectations. I can only hope that I am not guilty on all of these fronts myself! I will end on the expected Happily Ever After (HEA) note with this fiction, that much is sure.**

 **But, with Romance as a genre, it is all as I said with my love of analysing the Fred Astaire Romantic Comedy Musicals- scratch just beneath the surface romantic fluff and you will find something far, far more complex and interesting if you should only care to look. And so perhaps no entertainments that we choose are ever purely escapist and we are certainly not just passive consumerist sponges of the culture thrown at us via these types of media. All of these things and our responses to them teach us who we really are.**

 **Anyway- if you want to track these literary criticism article s down, they make for interesting reading. **

_**Beneath the Surface- The Hidden Codes of Romance. Linda Barlow & Jayne Ann Krentz**_

 **This 2010 article is also very good.** _ **Getting a Good Man to Love: Popular Romance Fiction and the Problem of Patriarchy. Catherine Roach**_

 **Other Musings on the nature of Romantic Love and the Genre of Romance:**

 **With my choice of Estate houses for Elsie to have worked in in her early years- I had to make a link for purely romantic genre 'rightness'!**

 **Using Nunnington and Duneagle means that I can have Charles and Elsie circling close to each other in similar locales and the social worlds of the great estates over most of their lifetimes and that just plain appeals to my sense of rightness about their inevitable romance. I am not entirely sure I actually belief in fate, or even soulmates as such- but you go right ahead and believe that if you want dear readers!**

 **I could well have written this whole fiction with that notion of true soulmates being out there for all of us for it is likely influential to my subconscious mind… but consciously, I do prefer to think that Charles an Elsie are just two people who got along well and grew together as friends and loved and supported each other as friends until such time as it became something more- more of the Eros crept into the Anteros, so to speak. And what I like about Charles and Elsie, and this is what makes them so 'modern' in my eyes, is that neither one of them needed** _ **saving**_ **\- they are both complete people, mostly comfortable with who they are and could have lived contented and complete lives without ever finding this love with one another. The love just makes their lives** _ **more- but,**_ **I would argue that it gives them the space to finally become fully self-actualised beings (Look at Educational Philosopher Abraham Maslow's Hierarchy of Basic Needs to understand where I am coming from here). The saving of another person by being their 'other-half' is something** _ **I**_ **see is an underlying kind if 'thing' in the notion that we supposedly all have a soul mate out there waiting for us. It does not sit well with me at all, for I am somewhat of an irreligious dog in my own life, I am afraid, and so I don't truly believe one person can ever save another person at all or that all we have to do is wait for them or try to find them to make our lives complete. You may well think that is sad. My fiction may not bear this belief of mine out. But that is where it currently sits in my head, and likely in my heart too.**

 **My later soundtrack listing of influential music for the writing of this chapter could well be more telling regarding all this than what appears within my work of fiction! Either way, I do maintain that Romance can and should be fluffy at times- but not trite- indeed it is all very complex- which is why I think we collectively, and culturally speaking, keep returning to it- to try to understand the human condition better.**

 **oOOo**

 **I think I have only two chapters and a short epilogue to go in this fiction now, for in my mind at least, Charles and Elsie have now faced various conflicts and found lasting resolutions in each other's arms and they are now ready to ride off into the sunset of their mutually agreed upon retirement for the Happily Ever After denouement they always deserved in order to adequately complete their lifelong pre-climate change and glacially-slow moving romantic love story!**

 **Thanks for all of your ongoing support and for trawling through this epically long chapter that, for some reason quite unknown to my conscious mind at the time of writing it, saw our heroes discussing Life, the Universe and Everything…** _ **as you do**_ **in the darkness of the pre-dawn hours- for whenever else does this sort of thing happen- really?! I hope they uncovered some of the meaning of life in a little more nuanced form than the answer being a flat "42" (but thank you for that, anyway, Douglas Addams!).**

 **I also thank you for putting up with my increasingly self-indulgent authorial musings about my own learning journey through this crazy writing process!**

 **I would love to know your thoughts/feedback/criticisms. Preferably beyond-** _ **'My God—that was just far too bloody long!'**_ **, or a simple '** _ **Sod Off, Borne, you utter pillock!'**_ **;p If you are signed up with FF, I am happy to discuss any and all such things via PM emails.**

 **Kindest regards,**

 **BorneToFlow : )**

 _ **Oh! And finally, A BorneToFlow style Big Long Post Script !**_

 _ **P.S:**_

 **Current soundtrack to my writing if you want to know where some of this comes from in my mind:**

 **So, quite a few songs that have been floating around in my life and then my head as I have been writing this and whose lyrics were possibly influential in my word choices at times, although none of them really speaks specifically to who I see Charles and Elsie as, nor do they exactly cover the topics covered in this particular chapter. However, there are a few lines within them that do touch upon the themes here-in presented, and they do most certainly speak to the bigger questions in life that we all have.**

 **If nothing else, they are probably some of the most beautiful songs ever written by quite a few truly beautiful people who graced and even still graced the world with their presence through music.**

 **Go find them and enjoy them.**

 **oOOo**

 **Tim Buckley- Once I Was**

 _Once I was a soldier_

 _And I fought on foreign sands for you_

 _Once I was a hunter_

 _And I brought home fresh meat for you_

 _Once I was a lover_

 _And I searched behind your eyes for you_

 _And soon there'll be another_

 _To tell you I was just a lie_

 _oOOo_

 _But sometimes I wonder_

 _Just for a while_

 _Will you ever remember me?_

 _oOOo_

 _Though you have forgotten_

 _All of our rubbish dreams_

 _I find myself searching_

 _Through the ashes of our ruins_

 _For the days when we smiled_

 _And the hours that ran wild_

 _With the magic of our eyes_

 _And the silence of our words_

 _oOOo_

 _And sometimes I wonder_

 _Just for a while_

 _Will you ever, ever, ever remember me?_

 _Ever remember me_

 _oOOo_

 **watch?v=rGJ9s22klE4**

 **From the Album** _ **Goodbye and Hello (1967)**_

 **This video version someone put together has some poignant visuals of men in Vietnam War- which was contemporary to the release of Buckley's song- and sadly- it all rings so true, IMHO, of what men lose of themselves in any war – even back in the Great War of 1914-18- and it also shows civilian women scraping through the all of the ruins to try to survive. The more times change- the more they stay the same it seems… Now we have Syria, etc, etc…**

 **And, yes, I do know,** _ **quite clearly**_ **, that** _ **my**_ **Elsie is really just a mouth piece for all of my current musing on all these things (Although, I would have been a conscientious objector to the war whereas her character at least came to support the necessity of WW1 in some way in this particlular take on it all). But really, someone out there,- and I am listening,** **truly** **\- do try to convince me of something other than the seemingly glaring fact that many current iterations of masculinity in our societies, and the patriarchal belief systems and social structures that spring from these iterations of what it means to be a man who needs to find a place of power for themselves in society, are actually, in general, catastrophically bad for men, women, the gender diverse, children, animals and probably the whole ecological system of the planet alike…**

 _ **Please?... : (**_

… _**I**_ _ **am**_ _ **listening.**_

 **And so, well beyond man-hating, blame, scorn and derision- styled feminism (which in my eyes actually takes up the most damaging aspects of how masculinity is coded within our various cultures with the way in which it's devotees try to assert their power over others), I actually think we need to work through all of these things far more intelligently, and possibly a little more clinically,** _ **together,**_ **if anything is ever going to change. And so, I prefer to think of myself as an** _ **equality-ist**_ **… if is there such a thing?!- or as Tom Branson so eloquently put it- "I don't believe in types, I just believe in people."**

 **So, there it all is out on the table!**

 **I am always open to discussion.**

 **oOOo**

 _ ***Back to the music, though!**_ _ *****_

 _ **oOOo**_

 **Tim Buckley's- Song of the Siren**

 **This is a hugely influential tune for me.**

oOOo

 _Long afloat on shipless oceans_

 _I did all my best to smile_

 _'Til your singing eyes and fingers_

 _Drew me loving to your isle_

 _And you sang_

 _Sail to me_

 _Sail to me_

 _Let me enfold you_

 _Here I am_

 _Here I am_

 _Waiting to hold you_

 _oOOo_

 _Did I dream you dreamed about me?_

 _Were you hare when I was fox? (sometimes heard/sung as 'Were you here when I was full sail'- which I much prefer)_

 _Now my foolish boat is leaning_

 _Broken lovelorn on your rocks,_

 _For you sing, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow:_

 _O my heart, O my heart shies from the sorrow"_

 _oOOo_

 _I am puzzled as the newborn child_

 _I am troubled at the tide:_

 _Should I stand amid the breakers?_

 _Should I lie with death my bride?_

 _Hear me sing, "Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you:_

 _Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you"_

 _oOOo_

 **watch?v=2pxvXI1i9cw**

 **Also form the album** _ **Star Sailor (1970)**_ **. This version has the beautiful and swimmy/ underwater backing vocals and guitar work.**

 **oOOo**

 **The next great song of love and longing and salvation-**

 **Paul Simon- Kathy's Song**

 _I hear the drizzle of the rain_

 _Like a memory it falls_

 _Soft and warm continuing_

 _Tapping on my roof and walls_

 _oOOo_

 _And from the shelter of my mind_

 _Through the window of my eyes_

 _I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets_

 _To England where my heart lies_

 _oOOo_

 _My mind's distracted and diffused_

 _My thoughts are many miles away_

 _They lie with you when you're asleep_

 _And kiss you when you start your day_

 _oOOo_

 _And a song I was writing is left undone_

 _I don't know why I spend my time_

 _Writing songs I can't believe_

 _With words that tear and strain to rhyme_

 _oOOo_

 _And so you see I have come to doubt_

 _All that I once held as true_

 _I stand alone without beliefs_

 _The only truth I know is you_

 _oOOo_

 _And as I watch the drops of rain_

 _Weave their weary paths and die_

 _I know that I am like the rain_

 _There but for the grace of you go I_

 _oOOo_

 **Here's Simon and Garfunkel back on speaking terms again- as older men- Art's voice is such a pure thing, even at this age.**

 **watch?v=9FE6JTtCLK0**

 **oOOo**

 **I Shall be Released- Bob Dylan**

 **But go and find the version performed by** **The Band** **who toured with Dylan for many years. (Rick Danko, Robbie Robertson, Levon Helm, Garth Hudson and Richard Manual)**

 **The version I love is from their 1968 album –** _ **Music from the Big Pink.**_

 **Richard Manual is amazing on lead vocals in this, but these five men harmonise in the most natural and beautiful way. Stunning.**

 _oOOo_

 _They say everything can be replaced_

 _They say every distance is not near_

 _So I remember every face_

 _Of every man who put me here_

 _oOOo_

 _I see my light come shinin'_

 _From the west down to the east_

 _Any day now, any day now_

 _I shall be released_

 _oOOo_

 _They say every man needs protection_

 _They say that every man must fall_

 _Yet I swear I see my reflection_

 _Somewhere so high above this wall_

 _oOOo_

 _I see my light come shinin'_

 _From the west down to the east_

 _Any day now, any day now_

 _I shall be released_

 _oOOo_

 _Now yonder stands a man in this lonely crowd_

 _A man who swears he's not to blame_

 _All day long I hear him shouting so loud_

 _Just crying out that he was framed_

 _oOOo_

 _I see my light come shinin'_

 _From the west down to the east_

 _Any day now, any day now_

 _I shall be released_

 _oOOo_

 **watch?v=cqsm9NhGSiM &list=PLEvr99j7ruPwC5VgxJBdWD7l3bILNPqOp&index=11 **

**And Here is a live version to make your skin prickle-**

 **watch?v=KfxTL-vLF3s**

 **Garth Hudson – the harmonium- chills. And I always love Levon Helm rasping deep south vocals as he drums (chase down** _ **The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down-**_ **Live at The Last Waltz for the best of Levon Helm)**

 **oOOo**

 **Whispering Pines by The Band from 1970 album **_**The Band**_

 **Again, sung by Richard Manual, who very sadly, met a tragic end, as the truly gifted all too often do.**

 _oOOo_

 _If you find me in a gloom, or catch me in a dream_

 _Inside my lonely room, there is no in between_

 _Whispering pines, rising of the tide_

 _If only one star shines_

 _That's just enough to get inside_

 _I will wait until it all goes 'round_

 _With you in sight, the lost are found_

 _oOOo_

 _Foghorn through the night, calling out to sea_

 _Protect my only light, 'cause she once belonged to me_

 _Let the waves rush in, let the seagulls cry_

 _For if I live again, these hopes will never die_

 _I can feel you standing there_

 _But I dont see you anywhere_

 _oOOo_

 _Standing by the well, wishing for the rains_

 _Reaching for the clouds, for nothing else remains_

 _Drifting in a daze, when evening will be done_

 _Try looking through a haze_

 _At an empty house, in the cold, cold sun_

 _I will wait until it all goes round_

 _With you in sight, the lost are found_

 _oOOo_

 **watch?v=SDyLukweBGw**

 **oOOo**

 **The Guests- By Leonard Cohen.**

 _One by one, the guests arrive_

 _The guests are coming through_

 _The open-hearted many_

 _The broken-hearted few_

 _oOOo_

 _And no one knows where the night is going_

 _And no one knows why the wine is flowing_

 _Oh, love I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you, oh_

 _I need you now_

 _oOOo_

 _And those who dance, begin to dance_

 _Those who weep begin_

 _And "welcome, welcome" cries a voice_

 _"Let all my guests come in"_

 _oOOo_

 _And no one knows where the night is going_

 _And no one knows why the wine is flowing_

 _Oh, love I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you, oh_

 _I need you now_

 _oOOo_

 _And all go stumbling through that house_

 _In lonely secrecy_

 _Saying "do reveal yourself"_

 _Or "why has thou forsaken me?"_

 _oOOo_

 _And no one knows where the night is going_

 _And no one knows why the wine is flowing_

 _Oh, love I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you, oh_

 _I need you now_

 _oOOo_

 _All at once the torches flare_

 _The inner door flies open_

 _One by one they enter there_

 _In every style of passion_

 _oOOo_

 _And no one knows where the night is going_

 _And no one knows why the wine is flowing_

 _Oh, love I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you, oh_

 _I need you now_

 _oOOo_

 _And here they take their sweet repast_

 _While house and grounds dissolve_

 _And one by one the guests are cast beyond the garden wall_

 _And no one knows where the night is going_

 _oOOo_

 _And no one knows where the night is going_

 _And no one knows why the wine is flowing_

 _Oh, love I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you, oh_

 _I need you now_

 _oOOo_

 _Those who dance, begin to dance_

 _Those who weep begin_

 _Those who earnestly are lost_

 _Are lost and lost again_

 _oOOo_

 _And no one knows where the night is going_

 _And no one knows why the wine is flowing_

 _Oh, love I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you, oh_

 _I need you now_

 _oOOo_

 _One by the guests arrive_

 _The guests are coming through_

 _The broken-hearted many_

 _The open-hearted few_

 _oOOo_

 _And no one knows where the night is going_

 _And no one knows why the wine is flowing_

 _Oh, love I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you, oh_

 _I need you now_

 _oOOo_

 **watch?v=l48aOXWKx4E &list=RDl48aOXWKx4E#t=64 **

**This is a stunning version by Anohni (formerly Antony) and the Johnsons.**

 **oOOo**

 **If It Be Your Will- by Leonard Cohen.**

 _oOOo_

 _If it be your will_

 _That I speak no more_

 _And my voice be still_

 _As it was before_

 _I will speak no more_

 _I shall abide until_

 _I am spoken for_

 _If it be your will_

 _If it be your will_

 _That a voice be true_

 _From this broken hill_

 _I will sing to you_

 _From this broken hill_

 _All your praises they shall ring_

 _If it be your will_

 _To let me sing_

 _oOOo_

 _From this broken hill_

 _All your praises they shall ring_

 _If it be your will_

 _To let me sing_

 _If it be your will_

 _If there is a choice_

 _Let the rivers fill_

 _Let the hills rejoice_

 _Let your mercy spill_

 _On all these burning hearts in hell_

 _If it be your will_

 _To make us well_

 _And draw us near_

 _And bind us tight_

 _All your children here_

 _In their rags of light_

 _In our rags of light_

 _All dressed to kill_

 _And end this night_

 _If it be your will_

 _oOOo_

 _If it be your will._

 _oOOo_

 **Again, this is the most stunning version I have heard – by Antony and the Johnsons (Now known as Anohni)-**

 **The link is from the Cohen doco.** _ **I'm Your Man-**_ **and has Cohen commenting on why he wrote it. Antony/ Anohni's voice is … truly something special and it takes this song to a place that Cohen, with his speaking/singing style just could not (at least for me).**

 **watch?v=1MDlMdu2gjw**

 **oOOo**

 ****What a gift all these** **men/women** _ **people**_ **are to the world. I'd take a poet-lover over a bloody-warrior any day, thank you very much!**

 **How can songs like these make you weep in pain and weep for joy all at once?**

 **These extremes seem to be at the very heart of this life.**

 **Magic.**

 _ **And so, yes, there is still much beauty in the world.**_

 _ **And Life is, generally, good.**_

 **Kindest regards,**

 **BorneToFlow : )**


	42. Chapter 42- Silver-light

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 42- Silver-light**

 **A/N:**

 **Some quick/slow blessed relief for you all, dear readers, after the trial of the previous chapter!**

 **Warning: So this is M-Rated and NSFW- and very lovingly so.**

 **I do look forward to comments and discussion on that front. I do apologise for the amount of notes in it and my inability to separate sections of it better via underlining and line breaks between many of the points. The FF interface is glitchy at the best of times and I often struggle with it freezing as I am editing in Doc Manager. I gave up on such a large document in the end as every single edit I performed would freeze me out for minutes at a time. My original Word Doc had all that stuff in, but the FF interface won't always pick it up. Sorry.**

 **Hope you like this one. Only a couple of chapters to go after this and I do hope to have them up by tonight.**

 **Kind Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow. : )**

 **CECECECECE**

 **oOOo**

" _I could never lose sight of my love for you, a chagair," and he kisses her tenderly on the tip of her nose…_

 _oOOo_

… _Charles dots gentle little kisses all over his beautiful strong lady's tear-stained face- his lady who has sifted through the ashes of the ruins of a world filled with war and darkness and cruelty…to find herself again and then lift herself, and others, into the light of the world again._

 _As they hold each other tightly again and drift ever closer to further morning rest, and some rest for their shared mourning, Elsie feathers away his own residual tears for her and for the world and for all of their pain- and Charles knows._

 _He knows._

Even with all of these harsh and horrid memories, old boy.

 _He knows._

There is always great love to hold onto.

There is that.

There is love.

There is love.

And Life is good.

 **oOOo**

 **CECECECECE**

 _oOOo_

 _After the darkest hour,_

 _The dawn must surely come._

 _Still._

 _Alone together._

 _In Silver-light we bathe_

 _And forge ourselves anew._

 _oOOo_

 _BorneToFlow_

 _oOOo_

 **The Grand Hotel, Honeymoon Suite.**

 **Scarborough, Yorkshire.**

 **Thursday, 3** **rd** **June, 1926**

Elsie and Charles spend much of the day resting. Once they finally decide to change out of their night-time attire, they bathe quite opulently in the middle of the day, then eat lunch in their room, and read intermittently from Thomson's _Autumn_ poem to continue to remind themselves of the beauty still to be found in the world. And they just hold one another. There is no need for them to face more of the rest of the world today. Today they have already given it so much of themselves in heart and mind and deed.

oOOo

They only venture out in the very late afternoon to stroll south along the spa bridge road and Cleveland Way walking path until it dissipates at the rockier South Bay area. They sit silently on a bench, Charles' arm resting around Elsie and they just watch the gulls flying overhead, the high clouds floating cleanly on the mild zephyr- and they listen to the sounds of the soothing seaside- speaking little and relaxing in peace, agreement and closeness together.

oOOo

On their way back up along Southern Cove promenade they breathe deeply the refreshing cool air that seems to rise through the dissipating haze of the heat of the day even as it falls.

They decide upon having dinner at the Scarborough Spa Rooms, enjoying some sweet summery white wine with it. Replenished, they segue seamlessly into a silently agreed upon round of dancing as the seaside concert band plays a range of lovely dance tunes- sounding out the last of the day and welcoming in the stillness of the night as the lustrous silver light of the waning quarter moon glints off the rippling tide as it rolls into the shore. The wind has changed direction and the cooler easterly sea breeze ruffles their hair, returning a hint of their carefree holiday demeanours to them and they start truly smiling into each other's eyes again, the heavy fog of war and grief that they have finally, and quite necessarily, traipsed through today begins to fully lift and they can see each other and their love anew.

Deeper.

All these simple freedoms of the day and evening serves to revitalise them, and after a final smooth and flowing foxtrot around the expansive seaside dance space, they feel refreshed by the salt tinged air and communicate their want for greater closeness with each other through their glimmering love struck eyes alone. At the end of their turn about the black and white chequerboard floor, they glide in unison from the crowd and disappear into their own private universe once more as they head north over the lofty Spa Bridge pathway that leads them right to the Grand Hotel and Elsie and Charles re-enter their quiet room.

oOOo

Tonight, they stand in silence again at the window of their lofty room to look out upon the sea under the moonlight once more. They are so high above all of the world. There is no one but them and no one who will see the love that they share so intimately and passionately. Once more their thoughts align in an unspoken agreement, they both want to keep the room lights off and the curtains open to allow the cleansing gentle light of the waning moon bathe their lovemaking with its magical beams.

Slowly they undress each other and place kisses over each other's pale skin in all the places they now know, both instinctively and from their quickly burgeoning experiences together, will garner the greatest pleasure for their partner.

In time, they guide each other naturally towards the bed and lie together to continue their sweet devotions.

Charles rolls to his back and beckons Elsie to him quietly.

"Come, my Love, let me kiss you, come up here to me… let me taste you again," he whispers deeply to her.

Elsie is ever so briefly stalled by his request, but really, they have explored so much of each other's minds and bodies these last days that this new formation seems just another natural progression in their closeness and deeper connection to one another. It feels innately right that she could take this position over Charles as he willingly gives all of himself to her in this way. It feels so right that he should express his love so fully to her with his most intimate kisses. The sheer wonder she feels as she grips heavily onto the headboard and then looks down upon her own body's fulsome curves, pale and white and sheened with sweat and she actually sees the slow movement of his love swollen tongue and lips upon her is truly exquisite and she finds her bliss quickly, powerfully and blindingly clear in the moonlight. He seems to sigh deeply into her and her own voice sings out the song of them in a combined and beautiful wordless vocalisation of their purest love. Charles feels that he is drinking in liquid moonbeams from his delightful wife and he hums his own bliss heavily onto her swollen dark bud and sepals and she rises in dazzling shimmering ecstasy above him once more.

Now gasping and feverish in her desire for more of Charles, she turns quickly over the top of him. She needs him deep within her again and given their other explorations this week, she easily straddles and engulfs him in her still quavering pleasure, crying out in an immediate and powerful climax as he fills her with all of his heat. Charles runs his hot hands up and down her lithe and shining sides as she rolls and rises slowly and rhythmically above him. He sees her full and beautiful hips engulfing him repeatedly as he traces his fingertips down her spine- the moon-shadows glancing of the ridges and into the dips and curves of her graceful back as she looks out of their large bay window to the clear night sky and the gleaming half shell of that constant silvery orb.

 _Exquisite._

She is so beautiful and alive. Her head drops backwards as she crests yet another silent wave of pure pleasure and he lightly and ever so gently wraps the full weight of her silver streaked and flowing hair around one of his wrists and forearm as he sits up further and presses his chest into her back, craving more of her warm smooth skin against him as he licks and kisses and lightly nips along her shoulders, his hand splayed heavily on her undulating belly, feeling all her womanly rhythms embracing him so sweetly and so deeply.

"Yess _s_ , Elsie…Oh ye _sss_ … your skin… so soft… so beautiful… my beautiful love…" he calls her on- slower now, as his free hand alternates now between squeezing heavily into one of her breasts and rolling one of her perfectly hard nipples over his open palm, and then gripping firmly onto her hip as she arches her back so strongly, and he helps lift and move her up and over him again and again. Languid. Fluid. She is magnificent and she is so very close again.

 _Again!_

 _Incredible!_

It is so utterly incredible - the amount of joy she holds within her. He feels so blessed to help her find it over and over again- to share in her rapture with her. He holds her hand and guides them both to herself, to her centre, and they glide her towards her peak yet again, and as she finally sinks down, panting and blushed with wonder from this most powerful zenith, Charles motions for her to lift off him.

"Els, oh my Els,… I want you again… I want to see your eyes when… "

"Yes Charles… Oh yes..."

And from somewhere in her love and moonlight addled brain, she commands more of her body- because she still wants that with him too- to reach their final bliss in unison with his eyes looking right into hers. And so she finds the strength to lift off of him, but before he can move to roll over her, Elsie is overwhelmed by the intensely beautiful sight of him, filmed in their sweet and fluid love- silvery, rugged and hard- the ancient power of the moors rising up through his whole body- it is in his skin- like that night he proposed to her, that night he wanted to stay stuck forever with her by his side- the night he told her in his own precious words that he wanted for them to live as closely as two people can in the time they have left to them and tonight, they are.

 _They are._

She takes him and kisses deeply onto his slick and glistening hardness, Charles gasps and rolls his hips like an oncoming storm across the land between them, almost losing control right then and there. But he somehow holds, because this slow and delicate dance tonight is one that he just does not want to ever end. He wants this night to last forever for them. He has never felt closer to her, never felt so free and wild, and she is right there with him, giving all of herself to him so freely and naturally too, and he can see she wants more and more as well. And Elsie can taste all of herself on him, sweet and exotic and humid and full- and she can taste Charles too – his virile manliness – musky and heathery, natural and deep-born- now intermingled with her own heady flavours. It is just so precious.

 _So precious._

She wants to share all of this with him- wants him to know them this way too.

"Els,… Oh Els… let me … want you…want to be inside you .. again … want you so much again… Oh, Els…"

"Yes, Charles … oh my lovely Charles… want you too. Please…" and she moves onto the bed she beckons him home to her lies opens to him and he re-joins with her and as he kisses her so deeply and he can taste them both upon her swollen lips and it is strange but somehow right and he knows that this is what she wanted him to know- to know who they are when they are together fully- not just her and not just him, but _them_. And it is such a precious gift _. So very precious_. His eyes sting with hot tears for the beauty of them together and he whimpers with such desperate longing into her mouth. And he just wants to see her rise for them again, he loves it when he can see her soaring for them and so he rolls them over once more and they pause only briefly and separate so that he can shuffle back up onto the pillows at the head board, for he adores seeing Elsie riding tall and strong and straight backed and gloriously powerful with him.

"Charles, let me taste…" she gasps, "love… taste us again…"

"Yesss , Els .. yesss.." he whispers out, for he loves it too, and he gasps again as she takes him again and kisses him deeply and then moves to straddle him once more and kisses their essence deeply into his mouth – her eyes wide open and gazing pure light into his own that are catching the reflection of the moon behind them in their inky darkness. _Perfection._ Her tongue dances slowly with his, keeping sinuous time with the excruciatingly slow swirling and rising of her hips. And each time she rises dreamily above him she runs her delicate soft fingertips over the slick and heady moisture of them bathing his hardness. And as she offers themselves up to him he thinks his mind will just explode with elation for this finest gift of them – so freely and surely shared.

Elsie sees him rising, feels him thicken within her even more, and even as her own body seems to scream out for greater speed and friction in this mindboggling moment of sacred communion, she instead slows completely, rises one more time to touch them in the place where they are so intimately joined and wraps her legs as tightly as she possibly can around his back, and stills completely. She stills. And she embraces him just as closely as he holds her within the circle of his large strong arms. Her eyes locks onto his eyes, she does not waver, but slowly pulls him deeper, welcoming him into her core, surrounding him completely, holding him, she takes the essence of themselves on her own hand, places it between their open lips and they kiss the gleaming life of _them_ back into themselves. She is still. He is still. Only her internal muscles work now to move his solid heat within her to their ultimate peak. He can feel her shimmering around him. Intricate, delicate, hot warm, liquid - like moonbeams rippling over the silent movement of the sea as it settles over the shore at night. And as she feels him rolling gently but swiftly and powerfully- as inexorably as the tide- inside of her, Elsie leans back in her rising ecstasy and gazes in absolute and joyous wonder as the silver-light that has bathed their silent midnight room with its soft glow this evening as they have loved each other so delicately and so slowly and so very sweetly seems instead to roll and slide forth from deep within him like quicksilver. And wide-eyed, Charles sees her in kind- the purest silver-light bursting forth from all their skin.

Together.

And in their final bliss they sing sweet and sure and low into each other as they kiss with weeping joy.

 **oOOo**


	43. Chapter 43- The Dawn

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 43- The Dawn.**

 **Author Notes:**

 **Despite there being many semi-humorous mimics of this man's style, the influence of one of America's finest and, I believe, most subtle actors of the silver screen (especially in his later Western movies) is in evidence in this piece. I refer to the much-parodied but never equalled, James Stewart. Just another hero of mine that I have to share the love with you all about! Those who know James Stewart's earlier works at all will likely pick where in this chapter the spirit of the every-man overwhelmed by love and beauty. See if you can guess which movies and scenes I may be referencing.**

 **Given the length and intensity if the previous chapters, where I needed Charles and Elsie to resolve the last big issues of their pasts together, as I see it, anyway (plus life, death, war, violence, beauty, the universe and everything -as it was!), this dénouement may seem all too brief. But I do not think it is uncommon in the final chapters of the books we read for final resolutions to be wrapped up pretty quickly. Either way, I really feel that it is all that I have left to say for these daft old Galapagos Boobies. I have moved them into the place that I needed them to be and which the TV series just could not offer me, and so I am content. Charles and Elsie are now the same but different and ready to ride off into the sunset together.**

 **And so, I leave you now with the penultimate piece of Happily Ever After romantic fluff that I will likely ever write for our dear Charles and Elsie. (Plus- just a few deep and poetic musings- for I cannot seem to avoid it!). There will be a very short and sweet epilogue that could have gone in this chapter's place. Go right ahead and swap these chapters around for yourself depending upon what note you want this fiction to end on.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Once more, and despite all the many criticisms I have voiced, I do thank Baron Julian Fellowes for imagining such lovely characters in our Charles and Elsie, and for giving us just enough worthwhile canon plot points to play around with. I must also thank the wonderful Phyllis Logan and Jim Carter for managing to give us so much and show us such depth of character when they were really given so very little good screen time to work with. True talents they are.**

 **I do not own them or profit from them, but I think I may just have learnt something worthwhile by loving them. And ultimately, to learn things, new and old, is the reason why we all read and write.**

 **It has been an absolute pleasure.**

 **Enjoy,**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **CECECECECE**

 **oOOo**

 **Scarborough Castle Grounds,**

 **The South-Western ridge – a copse of trees**

 **Friday, 4** **th** **June, 1926. Early afternoon.**

Their morning exploration of the ruins of Scarborough Castle complete, Charles shakes their blanket out across the ground. Elsie has turned aside and is busy unpinning her summer hat, so Charles surreptitiously leaves a gift for her to find later as they picnic in the summer shade, having found their very own secluded glade in which to continue their long slow courtship-in-reverse. And in a nod to this reversal, as well as to the slow decadence that has encompassed them completely on this honeymoon so far, Charles decides to unpack their cream-cakes to eat first.

"Lest the heat of the day ruin them," is his rascally explanation when Elsie quirks a querying eyebrow at his dining choice.

She returns his cheeky smile, for she finds there really is nothing to debate on this front. Reverse-dessert suits her quite admirably today too, for the early sweets will likely prove quite relaxing, if not necessarily energising enough to see them face much more than lazing about on their blanket, snoozing, drinking wine and eating various delights slowly across the whole afternoon. The revealing of long-buried secrets and the discussions of their various trials, both solitary and shared, led them yesterday into a world of mental and emotional anguish at times. Both of them feel quite sapped due to their in-depth philosophising. And despite, or indeed because of, their subsequent stroll along the southern cove sands, more reading of Thomson's _Autumn_ section of the Seasons suite _,_ plus a delightful round of dancing at the twilight by the seaside as the band played slow lilting tunes across the sea breeze guiding them back to all the beauty of the world; and then, of course, their long evening spent making exquisitely slow, tender and ultimately soothing and curative love together, has all left them both feeling most decidedly lethargic today.

They speak little and simply enjoy their cakes and thermos of hot tea whilst it is also still at its best. They are content listening to the hum of small insects and the lilting soft sounds of birds flitting about the trees above their heads. Neither of them is in much of a mood to continue with Thomson's _Winter_ poem yet, feeling it best to keep their day more light-hearted, and perhaps that section is one best left for a cosy night beside the fire, safe in their little cottage once they retire, which likely be at the beginning of winter, all things going well. _Not long now._

Charles leans in to brush some errant sugar sprinkles from Elsie's lips. Not that she could not have managed this for herself as she ate, but he is an obliging and attentive man and he only lives to serve his lady well. And besides which, his soft lips really are the most appropriate tool to hand in this moment for this particular task. Elsie has no complaints on this front either and smiles sweetly for this simple, sensuous pleasure. _Could I possibly love this man more?_

When they have finished their sweets and tea, Elsie clears and stacks their dishes aside so as to avoid an army of ants invading their peace, and settles herself with her back up against the tree trunk, cushioned by Charles' folded suit jacket. She leans her head back to gaze up through the light and dark patterning of the leaves above their heads.

"Come, Charles," she says quietly and beckons him to rest his heavy head upon her lap to look up at the sky with her. So many fine days of summer weather they have enjoyed on this holiday. _Life truly is good._

They sigh audibly and fall into a breathing rhythm together so very easily. Charles' hands are clasped lightly across his warm tea and cake-filled belly, and with Elsie repeatedly stroking her soft fingertips across the lines of his brow, down the bridge if his nose, smoothing over his bushy eyebrows and then over his cheek bones, it is not long and before he slips under the steady presence of her hand and dozes peacefully in the afternoon haze of heat.

Elsie is silently rolling all of Charles' many words of love this week languorously through her mind as she listens to the roll and fall of waves down on the beach and the distant busy shouts of people on the boats and foreshore being carried forth on the breeze. Soon her head is lolling back against the tree trunk and she too slips under muffled comfort and rests peacefully for a while, her palm stilled and heavy on Charles' head.

oOOo

Charles' eyes flutter open and Elsie's visage comes into smoky and then warm-glowed focus above him. She is still dozing lightly.

 _Serene._

 _Angelic._

He sees his own hand rising heavily and dreamlike before his eyes. It doesn't quite feel like it belongs to him yet- like he is somehow hovering outside of his body in this moment, and yet he senses the weight of it as a floating tangible thing. He watches as he gently combs some loose strands of her hair back behind the shell of her ear and then strokes a single fingertip across the soft skin of her high cheekbone.

Her eyes flutter open and her gaze falls upon his. He sees the moment when she is able to fully focus on the reality of him and the instant where all of her infinite love seems to shine just for him in her smiling bright blue eyes. _Just like an angel,_ he thinks most clearly, and that now familiar feeling floods through him with the surest warmth once again.

"You know something Els?" he hears his voice as if it is only just returning to his body, merely to flit outside of himself again and into her waiting ears. It flickers like the dappled light playing through the leaves above them.

"Hmm, what's that Charles?" She replies languidly as she repeatedly circles his forelock around her fingers and absently runs the tips of the fingers of her other hand back and forth across his chin, dipping in and out if that delightful cleft on her travels around his jawline and sometimes up to and around the shell of his ear.

"I rather think I may have fallen in love with you, pretty Elspeth."

"Well!" She laughs out softly, "that is not news, surely Charles. And I would say it is probably just as well, really- for you _have_ gone ahead and married me after all!"

"I am serious."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I do believe it is so."

Elsie looks at him with a note of incredulity. And she scuffles his hair as she huffs out a bemused laugh, "Silly man."

"No, I am serious, Els. I believe it to be entirely probable. I just feel so different now that am with you, and I think that I can only attribute it to the fact that I have fallen quite hopelessly _in love_ with you now."

Now Elsie just looks confused.

"What _are_ you on about Charles? I do know that you love me."

"Well, of course you do… and I know that too- I do love you… But, I was just thinking – I am _in love_ with you _._ It is different, Els."

"Is it?"

"Yes, I believe it is."

"Hmm?" she looks at him a little perplexed.

"I mean, I knew that I loved you when I married you- and before that- when I asked you to marry me... and I have loved you as a friend for many, many years, that you also know. And I do love you today and I always will love you- with all of my heart. But… I just feel so unaccountably different now, Els. I have never felt quite _this_ way before."

"But surely you have been in love before Charles- with Alice after all."

"I am not so sure now that I actually was, Elsie. Not now. I believe I _thought_ I was at the time, and I believed that for many years, really, but I have been thinking on it these last days with you, and I do not think that what I had with Alice can really compare to this…Have you been in love before do you think… with Joe Burns, maybe."

"Och, No _h_ ," she immediately replies. "Not really- never until you, Charles. For, if I was in love with Joe, I think the choice to marry him when I was younger, or later, when he asked again, well, … on both occasions it would have been a lot clearer and easier decision to make and to stand by, rather than to stay on at Downton. I do think I had great affection for him, though- and I still do really. He was a lovely part of my life when I was younger and I'll not forget him, so I think I will always feel some affection for him. But I did not, and do not love him – not as I love you, a chagair."

"Thank you, Love." He smiles up at her as she presses into that cleft of his chin which has been beckoning her into its delightful depths as her Charles has been musing so seriously on the nature of their love. "But, … you see, that's kind of what I mean. I was so young with Alice. And I do think I loved her in a way - well, … at least…I know I _wanted_ to love her- and as I told you once- I wanted it so very much at the time that I could almost taste it. And I think I really could have loved her well if we were to marry."

"I have no doubt you could have Charles- you have an enormous capacity to love- I have seen it, and of course, now I know it first-hand." And she tucks her hand under his waistcoat and affectionately rubs her hand over Charles' shirt just above his heart, feeling it beat strongly and steadily through his chest.

"But… now I wonder, Els… was I really _in love_ with her? Because I think that is what it must be with you, Elsie. Now that I can really feel it all. I believe that I am finally _in love._ "

Elsie is somewhat perplexed by Charles current line of thinking. "And what does being in love with me feel like for you then, Charles?"

"Oh, Elsie-love," he starts enthusiastically and sits up quite quickly to lean on one hand over her lap and he gazes with full and happy eyes into hers as he strokes her hair back around her ear, "It just feels so very _wonderful_ , Elsie-love… It….it feels like I am just going to burst right out of my skin at any moment Els- and somehow …just… _fly!_ " and with that statement, Charles actually starts to gesticulate expansively with his free hand near her face as he speaks. "It...it feels like sunshine is shimmering all through me and it tingles as it tries to shoot out of my fingertips," and he feathers his fingertips to her cheeks as if she will be able to feel it pouring onto her skin. "And… and… sometimes … I almost want to … to skip, Els- like I am a little child again- running across a big green field all filled with wildflowers. And I feel like my heart is bigger than my chest can possibly contain. And I feel like I am _alive_ – so completely and utterly alive and _in_ every single moment- like the past has no drag on me and the future is somewhere on a non-existent list of my concerns. And I feel like I want to just laugh out loud… all of the time! - wherever I am- sitting and eating a meal, or brushing my teeth, or even just when I am walking along- and most _especially_ when you are on my arm, Elsie-love. And I want…I want to just sing it out loud to the _whole_ wide world and tell everyone that this beautiful woman right here – she is with _me_ and _I_ am _your_ man – and I love her everyone!- I _just…_ love her…I love her… and …Elsie-love…I have never felt so much… …JOY,… just pure joy, Elsie. Not ever. I have never felt this way ever before, Elsie-love. Never."

His eyes shine so brightly into hers, and she is utterly gobsmacked by her staid and crusty old Butler's sudden, eloquent and effusive outburst of feelings- and all out in the open air, where anyone might pass by and hear him.

Tears have sprung to the corners of her eyes again "Oh, you dear, sweet man, Charles – that does not sound at all hopeless to me!" And she kisses him firmly, wrapping her arms tightly around his head and neck- then murmuring against his supple lips "my magical singing and dancing poet-lover" then she looks deep into his eyes and tells him most truly "that is what you most certainly are!"– and she pulls him down to her again and kisses him quite thoroughly once more. "I love you too, Charles- ever so much," she finally whispers into his neck.

When Charles pulls his face back from hers, he asks, "I do know that Elsie-love. But, well… what does being _in love_ feel like to you? Do you think that you are _in love_ with me?"

"Well, of course, I am, Charles! I would not have married you if I weren't!"

"Loving someone is generally enough to drive one person to marry another, Els, - but what does _being in love_ feel like to you?"

"We-ell…I guess I feel completely giddy and full of joy much of the time- just as you do." She ripples with quite some joy, even at the thought of the feeling. "But then a lot of the time I just feel…well… serene, I guess. Calm. Like I am floating above everything quite peacefully- and that I will not ever fall- and that the view that I am somehow inextricably enmeshed with is just …absolutely splendid," And Elsie smiles at Charles like sunshine is trying to burst out of her own skin too and he bends to kiss her tenderly – right where the light is brightest upon her lips. As they separate, she asks him, "But Charles, I still don't know if I understand all these distinctions you are trying to make between loving me and being in love with me. Are they not part of the same whole…thing?"

"Well, yes… because I guess that love definitely has to be there for the whole _being in love_ thing to work at all, Els."

"Hmmm… _?_ " she murmurs, sucking on her bottom lip and still looking a little confused.

"Well…because… You see, I have loved before, as have you, we both still do- we love our friends and the special young ones we have cared for over the years. But we could never claim to being _in love_ with them, at least I do not think so. Do You? Not like the way we feel now. Hmm?"

"Well….Nooo..." Elsie replies, still somewhat perplexed.

"Hmm. Let me try to explain. You see, I think loving you, Elsie, or loving anyone, really, it is an action, or at least it is what _drives_ our actions towards others. So… love is a _feeling_ we can have and then loving another is the result, so to speak- it is what we _do_ with the feeling. And, … I don't think we can always control who it is we do end up feeling love for and then loving, Els. We cannot foresee it happening ... I don't think. And, I do not think that it can be forced either– so I will likely never love Thomas, and you will likely never love Lady Mary … But …maybe … you see…how I love Lady Mary… it is true that it is something that I just cannot stop, but it is also something where I expect nothing in return- especially not from one I see as my own child… of a sort...I guess. Hpph! I am not making this make sense am I, Els?"

"Well… maybe not quite yet…Hmm… But, sadly, I cannot lay any further claim than you to ever truly loving Thomas- I feel empathy for him, indeed. And, granted I will not ever love Lady Mary, I suppose I hold more of a begrudging respect for her at times, and sometimes I pity her and her situation in life too, as I do poor Thomas… But no, I cannot force myself to love her. The fact that I hold her in any esteem at all is really only because she loves you, a chagair, and that she is, for the most part, good to you and wishes only happiness for you, and now me too, really. She has proven that to me now with that letter and our penny – so I do respect her, quite deeply now actually, for holding such fine sentiments for you, and for me by extension, and well, for what _we_ are, really."

"But Els, you see, even if Lady Mary were to never be good to me again, I will still _always_ love her, because she is like a child in my heart - even if I cannot find a way to act upon my love for her to help her make her life any better for her. The love for a child will not stop- it does not stop, Els. And I think you know that… even for a child I have only adopted into my heart- you do know that with our Sweet William, and Anna- just as well as I do. And maybe for parents who have their own children it _is_ different- I will never know I guess, so maybe they do have a sense of being in some sort of way _in love_ with their own child- but I would still wager it is different to the being _in love_ like I am now with you- for the responsibilities to a child are different- and a child is not aware on the level of an adult about how loving someone and supporting them and always being there for them works yet- and maybe not even when they become adults within that connection to another person who is a parent to them. The balance is … well… it is just … _different._ At least, that is what I think…it always flows more from the parent to the child... that's what I believe… or at least it should do- and _not_ the other way around. It is like I was trying to say in Hyde Park the other day- it is not for the child to be making _us_ happy. The responsibility for maintaining the connection is always with the adult and I think that is as it should be, don't you?"

"Well that all makes good sense. I do agree with all of that."

"Hmmm… and …and then,... really,…it is like we have talked about before… about how Lord and Lady Grantham accepted and ended up supporting Lady Sybil and Mr Branson… because the child is always more focused on the process of growing, it is their job to spread their wings and move away from the adult and forge their own life- and that cannot be stopped, I don't think... and it would be foolish to even try to."

Well, we seem to be in agreeance once more, my Love. And if all of that isn't proof that you make the very best kind of Dad, Charles, I don't know what is. Any child you adopt into your heart is very blessed indeed, my man," and she kisses him with extreme tenderness on the forehead. "Hmmm…" she sighs contentedly as she leans her head back against the tree once more, "But I cannot really say what it is like for parents with their own children either, Charles. I think I have seen new mothers go all gooey–eyed over their new bairns- maybe that is being _in love_ with a child… and it is probably just as well it _is_ there- for no one would put up with the sheer exhaustion of having a brand-new bairn in the house otherwise! It seems to drive the energy new Mams somehow find to keep caring for them- from what I have seen, anyway- in Lady Grantham when Lady Sybil was born, and young Ethel with Charlie- even when she was in the worst of circumstances, and of course many others I have seen in the village over the years. Lady Mary was a bit different, because of Master Crawley's death- she was too brittle to find that love for poor Master George back then, I think- not in the early days anyway."

"That is certainly true. I think it has improved over time, though- for her, …for the two of them, really."

"Indeed. But… Charles, why do you think that you could not have been in love with Alice back then, for it surely broke your heart enough when you were betrayed."

"It did seem to, yes… but…I think,… it was different… and what actually happened and what I felt then was not even as bad a feeling as even the _thought_ that my heart was going to break, when I thought you were turning down my proposal. I have thought about that all now, you see, and maybe now I see it was not so much my heart that was broken with regards to Alice, ... but my dreams that were shattered, Els. Because… I think maybe with Alice, …maybe I was just in love with the _idea_ of her- the dream of being able to love her as a husband, and being able to have a life together with her somewhere- I don't know where exactly - for my plans were really rather scatterbrained back then… and I think now …actually, I am quite certain of it now- that it was really more the idea of being _in love_ with her that drove me- rather than that I actually _was_ _in love_ with her, Els _._ Because it just feels so very different now with you here- all of it. It just cannot have been the same thing, Els."

Elsie shuffles down onto the blanket to lie on her side more fully and Charles follows suit, adjusting the pillow of his suit coat beneath their heads and holding onto her hand between them and rubbing his fingertip over the smooth metal of her gold wedding band, as they look comfortably and clearly into each other's eyes.

"But, why Charles? Could it not be that it is just different because we are so much older now?"

"But would not the passion I feel for you now- the _in loveness_ I feel for you- mean that it might actually have been even stronger back then, when I was younger and filled with more hopes for the future and I was so much more energetic and vigorous? Because, I can assure you, Elsie, it really did not compare to what I feel now- not at all…even with all of the strong passions that a younger body harbours...it didn't ever come close to what we have Elsie-love."

"Well, I would at least say, Charles, that your passions are likely still as strong today as you felt then, even if our energy to act upon them is somewhat … slower…shall we say."

Charles just smiles at this, for actually, when he thinks back on it, between the two of them they have found quite an astounding level of vigour for one another, given their respective ages. But, Elsie is right, for the truth of it is that even he knows it is likely not sustainable at this honeymooning level forever. _More's the pity_ , he thinks.

"But … Els, I really think that Alice did not truly love me back then- not at the time. For, like you said about yourself and Joe- if you had felt more than just affection for him- if you had really loved him and been in love with him- then the choice would have been easy- Like it was for Lady Sybil with Mr Branson really- despite all of the scandal at the time and all the trials they had to face together. But they had enough love to face it all- they must have felt they were enough for it all, for _anything_ , and they did not seem to ever doubt it."

"And so, they were enough for it all, Charles, at least while it all lasted," she replies with a touch of sadness for the loss of Sybil to them all. Even after all these years, it cannot be repressed. "And I suppose it is the same for our Anna and Mr Bates. Nothing has been able to stop them loving each other fully it seems."

"That's right. So,…Well, Els, I actually think the choice _should_ have been easy for Alice too if she had truly loved me. And despite what you said when you helped me bury the hatchet with Griggs, now I find that I do not believe that she loved me later on either- not truly."

"It didn't sound that way to me from what Griggs must have said to you, Charles. I think she did love you very much."

"Maybe. I don't know…I think it just needs to be put into some proportion, though, Els. You see, Alice had obviously had a very rough time of it since we parted- well, certainly since she parted from Griggs… and I think she was in love with the _idea_ of me again by then. You see, maybe it was just her regrets speaking – her hopes that it might have actually been better if she had gone another way with me instead- much more than it was based on the actual truth, for by then, of _course,_ I would have looked to be the better man when compared to Griggs, what with how it must have ended up for Alice with him, and what with Charlie fast headed for the workhouse and all. It would have been a tough life on the road and in the Halls with _any_ man, Elsie. And she was, in truth, far too sweet and gentle a soul for all of that. But I think I was just in love with the idea that I could save her from it all somehow by being her husband, Elsie."

"And I have no doubt you would have been able to protect her, Charles." She strokes his soft cheek, "It is in your nature to protect the people you love- I know that a chagair. And I still think you rate yourself far too poorly in regards to all of this Charles, you are a _very_ lovable man."

"I am glad _you_ think that, Els, for it is all that really matters to me… but… I think it is all true, Elsie, that what I felt for Alice _was_ different and it was not like the love I have for you _at all_. Not at all. For I do love you- I do- and with all of my heart. But now I think that I am _in love_ with you too, Els- and I think I can be _in love_ with you only because you happen to _truly_ love me back with all of _your_ heart. And … and Alice did not really love me back… and … well ….it saddens me now to say it… but I do not think I ever really saw her clearly like I can see you, Els… and so I don't know that I truly loved her either. It was just the idea of her that I loved- the dream of us- but it was not _us_ … and …so…so it was just… _not_ enough, Els." Elsie just listens to his reasoning in rapt silence. "Alice and I, we could not act on any sort of true love to even _try_ to build a space together between us- somewhere entirely safe where we could truly fall _in love_ with one another and then _be_ in there together. We couldn't have been together- not really, not fully, and not like _us_ now… But, … I think… that is what I was _so_ close to that I could almost taste it back then, Els. It was what I wanted…I wanted so very much to _be in love_ with Alice _._ And… and… I think that is what is all so different now with you. Being _in love_ is what I have with you now and…and… I think it has to be built from the actions of our shared love for one another for it to be true and real- and that the love _has_ to be equal on both sides for it to even work _at all_ \- and I believe we really do have that equal love for each other, Els. I do. And so that is what has built this space for us… this space to actually be able to fall freely and safely and unreservedly _in love_ together. Does that make any sense, Els?"

Lying on their blanket, comfortably warm in the dappled light of this glorious afternoon, Elsie can only gape with stunned and loving blue eyes at Charles- her astonishing dark-eyed, deep-hearted and reflective and thoughtful poet-lover.

All she can do is move infinitesimally closer to him and they kiss each other so gently and deeply and yet so thoroughly and with such intensity that when they finally break apart, they are both panting and giggling like the giddy young, and yet the mature and aware lovers that they feel themselves to be, and that they truly are. They gaze deeply into each other's eyes from their prone position on the picnic rug under a tree at the back of the Scarborough Castle- ensconced within the hazy roundness and fullness of their equally shared love and totally _in love_ with one another.

"Oh, Charles, my beautiful poet-lover. Charles." His name is a statement and a full stop to all her thoughts and feelings. Elsie almost sings into his mouth through the brightest smile Charles thinks he has ever seen upon her face, her fingers streaking through his silver hair "It all makes entirely strange and absolutely perfect sense, Charles. And it all makes perfectly _beautiful_ sense that I should be so completely out of my own head and _in love_ with you, a chagair, even at my age."

Charles whispers warm across her beaming face as he holds her ever tighter to him, "And I am completely and utterly _in love_ with you, my pretty Elspeth... for the very first time ever- I am _in love_. And now I have it all so close that I _can_ hold it. Now I really _can_ taste it all, my darling one."

And they kiss once more, slowly and tenderly now- deeply _in_ love- and somehow suspended outside of the notion of time itself. And in this moment- if a moment can ever be said to truly exist at all- for Charles and Elsie, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

Within and beyond.

In the perfection of their moment.

Elsie breathes quiet life within her poet-lover's own breath.

Together alone.

Reflected.

They both breathe life to the word.

The word that is the sum of them and their equal and mature love:

" _Anteros"_

 **oOOo**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Author Notes:** **the two scenes I refer to as being influential to Charles effusiveness here are from the 1941 film** _ **Philadephia Story**_ **and everyone's Christmas-time favourite 1946-** _ **It's a Wonderful Life.**_ **In both Stewart rhapsodises poetically to a couple of formidable women his characters are falling unwillingly in love with. In the former- Macauley Conner to Katherine Hepburn's Tracy Lord character (he doesn't get the girl, Cary Grant does- but he deserved her more- for she was actually pretty awful, in truth). And in the later,1946 film we all know and love,** _ **It's a Wonderful Life**_ **(Frank Capra films are generally great)—Everyone's every-man, George Bailey, of course, ends up with Donna Reed's lovely Mary Hatch character… and Clarence gets his wings and all is well with the world once more. And that is romance for ya!**

 **CECECECECE**

 **Just one short Epilogue and, which I am still not sure should have appeared before this particular chapter here, but at the moment I think it works best as the final word. Swap them in your own mind if you prefer, and let me know what you think, anyway, if you would care to drop a final review my way. They are always appreciated.**

 **So, Chapter 44- Epilogue, Coming very soon.**

 **And then, I think, my work here will be done.**

 **I will remain out there in the DA FF background and available to PM about DA, this fiction, or writing in general, (or indeed, life the universe and everything!) if you so wish.**

 **Kind Regards,**

 **BorneToFlow**

 **oOOo**

 **CECECECECE**


	44. Epilogue:In The End, That's All There Is

**The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 44- Epilogue: In the End, That's All There Is.**

Waking from their afternoon snooze on their rug in the shade beneath the castle, Elsie kneels up with Charles to finish putting away all their lunch dishes in the picnic basket. She finally spies the envelope that is addressed to her in Charles' sure and neat copperplate script.

"Charles, is this your letter?"

He cannot help but quip, "Well I should hope no other man sees fit to be ogling my wife at length within a sylvan glade whilst secreting love letters into trees branches for her!"

"Silly," and she cuffs him on the sleeve. "Will you read it to me?"

"Perhaps read it to yourself first I think, Els, for that is what you would have done if it arrived in a timelier fashion before our wedding. If you like it, then I shall read aloud to you afterwards… only if you like... I … I am not sure if it is really good enough to vocalise, though."

Elsie feels her heart beat faster in anticipation. Despite his reticence to speak too boldly of his skills, Elsie feels sure that her poet-lover has written something quite wonderful for her, given how lovely his other letter of this nature was and which saw her off to such peaceful rest on the eve of their wedding. This will be her second only love letter in her entire life. She has never even received a Valentine. And despite the time she spent walking out with Joe Burns, she never received a letter of this style or intent from him, for he was ever a practical man, and kind in the ways of trying to please her should they go to something like a village fair, but he was a man of very few words and would not have ever thought to commit his feelings in such a way to paper.

Charles settles with his back up against the tree and beckons Elsie to join him within the circle of his arms. Elsie nestles into him and chews on her lower lip as she smiles shyly up at his clear bright face. She opens the envelope, recognising the stationary as the embossed paper supplied in their room at the Grand Hotel. Now she will have yet another lovely souvenir and keepsake of their very special holiday to always look back on and to help her remember the very best of times.

"Thank you, Charles," she whispers out, before she unfolds the paper, suddenly a little overcome by the fact that he loves her enough to put his heart out on the line like this- that he is risking her sharp quips and ridicule if he should appear ridiculous. But no matter what he has penned, she knows it is from his very true and honest heart, and that is not a thing she will ever deride.

She reads quietly and slowly, wanting to draw the pleasure out as much as she can.

 _oOOo_

 _Friday, 4th June, 1926_

 _To My Dearest Elsie,_

 _I give you my halting words to both contain and add to our acquired memories._

 _Ever yours,_

 _Charles._

 _oOOo_

And when she finishes the whole missive, she can only murmur softly to him through the thickness of her heart swelled full to bursting within her breast- so overwhelmed is she by his regard for her.

"Oh, …my sweet man," she breathes out heavily as she nuzzles into the open neckline of his shirt to place a kiss at the hollow of his neck where she can feel the pulsing of his heart. She fishes into his waistcoat pocket for a small handkerchief to dab at the tears that have welled up in her eyes, and so as to look upon their little sixpence. "Please read it aloud to me now, a chagair," she whispers thickly past the lump of overwhelming joy and good fortune that has risen to her throat. She always wants to hear his voice speak out for her- for them. Charles, quite bashfully, but willingly obliges, reading the villanelle he composed for her with the surest of conviction- telling her all that he feels for her- for them.

 _oOOo_

 _Pretty Elspeth_

 _oOOo_

 _When in my dreams I hold your hand in mine,_

 _On sunlit sands, we walk to our fair aisle._

 _Take all my heart, milady, it is thine._

 _oOOo_

 _Change roils 'bout such that I cannot define,_

 _Still, I am steady thru' my ev'ry trial,_

 _When in my dreams I hold your hand in mine._

 _oOOo_

 _Fervent the ache- my body to entwine_

 _With all your fem'nine beauty, grace and style._

 _Have all my heart, milady, it is thine._

 _oOOo_

 _The nights we spend together over wine,_

 _Seems like your voice were made just to beguile,_

 _In all my dreams I hold your hand in mine._

 _oOOo_

 _Full is life when our minds and souls align._

 _Only side by side is our path worthwhile._

 _Hold all my heart, milady, it is thine._

 _oOOo_

 _Light of my world! In your fair eyes doth shine._

 _Turn unto me and grace me with your smile._

 _In waking dreams, I hold your heart in mine-_

 _Keep all of my heart, My Lady, for 'tis thine._

 _oOOo_

 _C.E.C._

 _oOOo_

As he finishes and he looks up from his little paper, she smiles her fullest and most radiant and dew-eyed smile right into his eyes. She is overwhelmed by his honesty and beauty once again and all she can offer is her complete acceptance of his fullest gift to her. Her thumb presses their little sixpence of good fortune into that precious dip upon his chin as she clasps his clean-shaven cheeks in her soft open palms and guides his lips onto hers in an attempt to convey in her own beautiful way that same depth of feeling that this most wonderful poet-lover has forged with his elegant mind and heart and hand.

This gift.

Her man.

His lady.

Just them.

"Always, a chagair."

 **oOOo**

 _ **Fin.**_

 _ **oOOo**_

 _ **CECECECECE**_

 **Final Ever Author Note!**

 **It has been my absolute pleasure to research for and write these chapters, and I hope it worked a little for others out there in Chelsie-ville. Thank you, dear readers, for all of your time and amazing support.**

 **I shall leave you now, for I feel I have no more that I need to say or fix up for my own benefit within the DA Universe- other writers with a greater passion for all that JF offered will surely serve you better.**

 **And so, I shall bid you all** _ **adieu**_ **, knowing that I have moved Charles and Elsie into the space that I always felt they deserved, but my memories could not acquire from the canon.**

 **I hope that I could show, that in each other, the lovely and poetic Charles Carson and the inimitable and ever lovely Elsie Hughes found what we all quite possibly deserve, but at the very least, we should all certainly aspire to.**

 **Happy romancing!**

 **With very fondest regards,**

 **BorneToFlow : )**

 **oOOo**

 **CECECECECE**


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